Open Waters
by TheUltimateGambit91
Summary: Open waters can drown a person but if you're not alone, then perhaps drowning isn't so bad a thing. AU set in the 1700s ROMY & some JONDA, hints of other pairings
1. Prologue

**Revised October 2011**

**Disclaimer: DON'T OWN X-MEN, MARVEL PROPERTY!**

**Btw this is an AU and there are no powers and this is set in the 1700s. (don't worry, it'll be full of action without 'em)**

**-Gams **

**Open Waters**

_**Prologue**_

Lord Delmar was not a man of great feeling. On the contrary, apart from anger or disapproval, he was as unfeeling humanly possible. Of course there were some things John Delmar did care about. Unfortunately his wife and children were not listed under that particular category. Ever since his youth, money had been his main and often his _only_ priority. Every cent he lost felt like a blade being inched closer and closer to his throat and with every inch the blade slipped towards him, the more he became aware of his need to delay the final judgement that the invisible knife represented. That was probably why he took in his granddaughter after her parent's deaths. Not out of love or charity, but apprehensive greed.

When his daughter Pricilla had been born, he had immediately known how much she would be worth to him and that was absolutely nothing except a world of trouble. Eighteen years rolled by as did multiple expenses that edged the knife a little too close for comfort. However it wasn't the expenses of having a beautiful and lively daughter that became the main problem. It was when Pricilla first met _him._Captain Owen D'ancanto was several years older than her. He was handsome, distinguished and a man of the _New__World_to boot. He wasn't the first charming young man to pursue her but his attempts at wooing his daughter left Lord Delmar disgusted. From the first day he met the man he had hated him. He was American, a _Casanova_ of the new generation and a snake charmer in his eyes that stole Pricilla's heart from day one. Six months passed before Owen decided it was logical to ask him for Pricilla's hand in marriage. It would be polite to say he simply refused but there was no point in dallying in lies. Not only did Lord Delmar turn him down, he forbade him from stepping a foot on his land again and most especially from going anywhere near his daughter.

Weeks passed and Pricilla seemed to be her usual _expensive_ self. Delmar reflected on those months in the years to come with an after taste of revulsion. While he and his wife lay unaware down the hall, Owen snuck into Pricilla's room in the dead of the night and left every morning before dawn. One night however, fate seemed to be in the mood for trickery. The lovers were caught off guard for once. Lord Delmar had been walking about the manor one night, brooding over a bout of financial squander his sons had brought on him, when he happened upon his daughter's doors. Noises muffled by his daughter's bedroom doors caught his ears and fuelled his outrage. As fate watched amusedly, Lord Delmar opened to doors only to catch them in their affair. No one, not even his wife, had ever seen Lord Delmar so furious. He had Owen thrown off of his lands and beat his daughter until her tears streamed with blood. Not too long after that night however, fate seemed to be back on the lovers' side and Owen took Pricilla away from her home and disappeared without a trace. The only news Delmar received was that from a letter sent to his wife from Pricilla. His wife had announced through joyful tears that Pricilla was happily married to Owen but worse still, a child had been born; a daughter. Lord Delmar's only response to the news had been to curse them and their bastard child. Disgraced, he cursed her and her family even after his sons had deserted him and his wife had left him for the next world. Eight years passed before he ever heard of them again. He learned that his son-in-law had died at sea, and that his daughter had been left pregnant and alone to raise an eight year-old daughter. He had smiled that day, smiled and drank to his small victory. Six months later he learned that Pricilla and her prematurely born son had died and that his granddaughter had been left alone in the world. The taste of victory sweetened with the promise of a good investment.

Though he despised her for her very existence, his granddaughter happened to be the daughter of a _wealthy_ Sea Captain. The girl's father had left all his treasures and earthly possessions in her inheritance, making more than just a generous dowry for her and a successful suitor when she married. Lord Delmar saw it as a bountiful addition to his own wealth and so sent for her (and her inheritance) to be brought back to England. It was a week after her arrival that the codicil revealed its ugly head. Along with being stashed away somewhere amongst the D' ancanto estates, the girl's inheritance was untouchable. If he had not shown her off to society as his estranged daughter's only child, perhaps he may have been able to be rid himself of the scrawny ten year-old but the damage was done. There was no means of ridding himself of her. And so in light of this _disaster_, he took out his frustration and fury on whomever was closest. It was too often that Anna-Marie was at the receiving end of his fury.

But what could be done? She was a thorn in his side, a symbol of his lost opportunities and remained to be so for the ten years to come.

_**REVIEW PLEASE!**_

_**-Gams**_


	2. The Gamble of Life

**Revised October 2011**

_**Chapter One - The Gamble of Life**_

_**Twelve years prior…**_

Pricilla D'ancanto let out sigh of contentment. Her sapphire blue eyes were set a glow with pride while small chuckles of amusement escaped her lips as she looked through the wide windows. In the gardens outside, two small figures sat in the green grass. These figures were really two small children, one a girl and the other a boy of the same age. Laughing and playing merrily while boisterous Retriever dog with shaggy hair licked at their faces and pulled at their clothes in a way that only a beloved pet could get away with. The picture warmed Pricilla's heart to the point where fresh tears began to overwhelm her vision. She blinked them back quickly, the salty tears staining the perfect moment she had captured.

"_Don't spoil it now. Not today…"  
_

Smiling sadly as she watched the children play, her gaze caught onto the small, six-year-old girl. Though she was small, fragile in appearance, she was a strong in spirit and there was promise of her maturing into a Southern beauty. Though a unique one at that. Her hair, a mess of curly locks of dark auburn was unusually streaked white and framed her pale, heart-shaped face. Though this oddity had caused quite a number of questions when it had first appeared, the questions were soon forgotten over time for they did nothing but add to her independent nature. Her emerald eyes, identical to her father's eyes, shone with mischief as she chased her dog at a vast pace. Pricilla beamed with pride at her daughter's early accomplishments. She was as head strong, energetic little girl with a talent for stirring trouble; likenesses that she shared with her father.

A longing, aching pain began to pull at her heart at the thought of Owen, causing tears to swell again. _Captain Owen D'ancanto _had been at sea for about two months. And though she was reassured by everyone, even her own daughter, that he was be safe and home in no time, her heart still ached from worry.

"Mama! Mama come see! Come see what meh an' Jiggah did t' Cody!" 

At the shrill call of her daughter, Pricilla pushed back her depressing emotions and nearly jumped with startle. Anna-Marie had come running to the open window, dressed in a now dirt-caked white frock as she practically flung herself against the windowsill, breathless and grinning widely. Chuckling, Pricilla looked down on her daughter's porcelain face that was flushed with excitement and streaked with dirt. Her short-lived despair was forgotten as she sighed over the prospect of having to get Anna-Marie to take a bath.

"What did you do to the poor boy sugah?"

Anna-Marie grinned harder, a proud look adorning her face. A sweet Southern drawl slipped through her pink pouty lips as she exclaimed excitedly.

"Ah beat him! We tussled an' ah won! Really ah did Mama, -Come see! Ah'll show ya!"

Pricilla laughed at her daughter's eager smile and subconsciously put a gentle hand to her swelled belly. Pregnant with her second child not seven months before hand, she had kept to the house as ordered by the family doctor. When Anna-Marie had been born, she had had a difficult labour and so they made sure to make all the necessary precautions. She kept mostly to the house in these later months. Despite the confinement bringing on a kind of cabin fever, she gave her daughter an apologetic smile and she shook her head.

"Sorry sugah, your baby brother needs me to stay inside the house. But I' believe you. I saw you give that boy a good whipping." 

Anna-Marie's face instantly lit up as she nodded agreeably, forgetting her momentary disappointment. But before she could return to the game of tussle with Cody, the all too familiar sound of galloping horse hooves was heard. Both Pricilla and Anna-Marie turned their heads at the instant sound of an approaching horse while both their hearts rose with hope. Anna-Marie turned back to her mother, flashed another one of her brilliant smiles before racing after the horseman and ignored her mother's calls. As she rounded the large Mississippi house that she and her mother had remained in while her father was away, a million thoughts buzzed through her mind but only one stood out the most. _Her father was home._

When she finally came to the front of the house, her eyes landed on the familiar black stallion, Goliath, her father's horse. Being so small herself, the great stallion towered over her like a giant. Her attention however was quickly shifted to the rider that had dismounted him. Though he was dressed in a travelling cloak and attired as a stranger would, his familiar features stood out instantly to her. His handsome face that was adorned with a trimmed goatee and moustache on his upper lip and chin broke into a kind smile. His shoulder-length auburn hair curled in the same way that her own. The pair of emerald green eyes that flashed with instant recognition were also identical to her own.

Owen crouched down to her level and opened his arms in welcome. Anna-Marie ran into her father's protective arms. They wrapped around her small frame and before she could speak a word, they instantly pulled her high into the air. She cried out in her excitement as the wonderful feeling of flying overtook her. Owen let out a hearty laugh as he began to swing her around, her weight feather-like in his strong hold as she flew while her small arms outstretched like wings as he held her high in the air. But when the world began to turn to much, he planted his little bird's feet back on the ground. Her wings tucked away for another time.

He crouched down to one knee and pulled his precious daughter into another embrace as her giggles began to fade and kissed her forehead tenderly. The action made her scrunch her nose adorably, causing him to chuckle with amusement.

"Mah dear! Would ya look at this! Has Papa really only been gone two months? Has mah lil' Rogue been growin' again?"

He put a hand on top of her head to express his genuine amazement, making her giggle as she replied animatedly.

"Ah'm almost as tall as Cody!"

"Are ya now?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

"An' guess what papa?"

"What, lil' Rogue?"

"Ah beat Cody in a tussle! -Well, Jiggah helped a bit. But ah still got him!"

Owen put an eager expression of shock across his face at her words. Proud of his daughter, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her petite ears and replied tenderly.

"Ah. That's mah girl. An' that would explain the dirt on ya dress? Ya must've beaten that Robbins boy good this tahme no?"

Anna-Marie nodded again, a sheepish smile across her face as she fingered the dirty grass mark on her white frock, knowing fully well that her mother would have some scolding to do later. However she got no scolding from her father. Instead he turned the subject to her mother.

"Where is ya Mama darlin'? Have ya been a good girl an' helped ya Ma like ah asked ya to?"

Anna-Marie nodded vigorously and made to run off and get her but she had no need to. At the mention of Pricilla, the woman herself came walking out of the house at a quick pace, heavily pregnant and all. Anna-Marie quickly stood back for her mother and watched as Pricilla ran into her husband's waiting arms and kissed him senselessly. The action made Anna-Marie giggle amusedly. When the kiss between the two ended, Pricilla broke down into a puddle of tears in her husband's arms but still managed to sob out.

"I thought you would never come home! Owen Jonathan D'ancanto what took you so damn long?!"

Owen chuckled at the sudden worried anger that burned in his wife's eyes. He smiled down at her, ran a gentle hand through the blonde curls that framed her face and placed a reassuring kiss on her forehead.

"Ah'm sorry darlin'. Mah ship ran into a storm off th' coast, so ah was stranded a while with Jean-Luc an' his lot."

Pricilla's eyes instantly flashed with shocked concern as she replied anxiously.

"What?! What happened? -You didn't hurt yourself did you?-"

"Don't worry, love. The only thing that _is_ hurt is mah pride. We lost the Southern Jewel. Even now she stays wrecked off the coast. But don't ya worry none, Jean-Luc set meh an' mah crew up wit' a new one."

Pricilla gave a sigh of relief that had absolutely nothing to do with the loss of the ship, only the relief that her husband had returned safely. Anna-Marie on the other hand, reacted a little differently. Her voice became small and most unlike her usual boisterous self.

"The Ship's gone? Papa? Is- is that true?"

Pricilla and Owen exchanged similar glances of worry. Owen crouched down to her height again. He brushed away a few strands of loose white curls from her tearful face. He spoke gently, using her nick-name to soften the situation as he went.

"Sorry Roguey. But there was no savin' her. But ah'll tell ya what, ah'll make it up t' ya f' losin' her. Jean-Luc has given meh a new ship."

Anna-Marie's eyes brightened with interest as she wiped away a stray tear.

"Really?"

"Really. An' ya know what ah'm gonna let ya do?"

"What Papa?"

Owen smiled proudly at his daughter's enthusiasm.

"Ah'll let ya name her." 

Anna-Marie's eyes lit with excitement and with a cry of elation, she flung herself into her father's arms and thanked him over and over again and promised that she would think of the best name she could. Owen took his daughter into his hold and picked her up before wrapping his other arm around his wife's waist. The family was content once more.

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_**Twelve Years later…**_

"Bring me another ale!"

"But sir, y' 'ave nearly 'ad jus' about the whole tankard o' ale-"

"_I said_, bring me another ale wench- And if I don't, I won't pay you a shilling-"

The tavern wench gave a frightened noise and nodded nervously before leaving to fetch his drink. After drowning at least a half a dozen pints of ale, the elderly man was now particularly drunk and in foul mood which he took out on the unsuspecting bar wench and even some of the passing customers. Cursing and yelling his head off until his face was near purple with anger, Lord Delmar was not a pleasant man to be around on this night. When the wench returned with his ale, he took it greedily without any acknowledgement or thanks to the wench before taking a long swing and wiping his mouth on his coat sleave afterwards. His eyes became more blood shot red than his usual steel blue by the gulp.

Today had been a somewhat agonising day for his Lordship. At this point however, his appearance showed only the signs of intoxication. The purpling colour of his face didn't suit the greying blonde hair upon his head or the dark blue coat he wore but it certainly suited his mood. Just about as much as the dozen pints of ale suited his reason for drinking so heavily and taking his anger out on everyone else but himself. His reason was simple. The knife of judgement at his throat had inched but a little closer. Namely, this was all because of the cry of pain his purse had made when he paid for his granddaughter's birthday celebration that day. If it hadn't been for the expectations of those of high society he surrounded himself with he might have gotten away with totally ignoring his granddaughter's eighteenth birthday but to his misfortune, word travelled quickly when it approached.

Lord Delmar made a sickly grimace at the memory of the celebration. It had been a ghastly and painful affair for him having to pay for the food and the entertainment but not as much as seeing his only grandchild enjoying herself. He shuddered at the thought before taking another swing of his pint.

"Expensive little brat. She'll make a pauper out of me." 

He muttered this incoherently, not paying attention to bemused and taunting glances he got from the people around him who eyed him like he was some rambling mad man. When he had taken his only granddaughter into his care he had no intention of spending _anything_ on her unless it would profit him. Birthdays did not profit him at all. She was winding up being just as troublesome as her mother before her. As he continued to ramble angrily to himself, he failed to notice the sudden silence that washed over the tavern or the group of new comers that had enter.

As the figures stepped into the tavern, the once lively and loud room came to a once-in-a-life-time halt. Silence descended the tavern. Heads turned, eyes brightened with apprehensive interest and a few beer pints dropped to the floor with definite clashes. All watched as the figures stepped into the room, all, save for Lord Delmar who was too mixed in his own thoughts to even take notice.

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When Captain Remy LeBeau had stepped into the tavern he could only grin silently when the tavern broke into silence. He walked into the room with his two comrades in tow and remained openly oblivious to the tavern peoples' stares. It wasn't long before the silence died and hushed voices began to rise out of the silent abyss.

"Oi Captain. Think we've found his _Lordship._ -Over there."

His first mate, John Allerdyce, a man with a personality as bright and maniacal as the flaming red hair on his head, pointed out to a lone old man sitting at the back of the tavern. His appearance dishevelled in his drunken state, Remy only grinned harder, knowing now that perhaps his task would be a lot easier than he had thought. Nodding to his first mate, he approached him. But even when he stood in the old man's clear sight, it still took him a minute to realise he had company. Delmar glared up with bleary eyes, the dimmed light of the tavern making it hard in his condition to see properly as he stared up at the figure's seemingly distorted face. He raised a brow at the man facing him before speaking, his intoxicated voice raspy and cold while he did not recognise the man.

"What do you want, boy?"

Remy grinned in what Delmar could only guess was an accommodating way before he spoke. His voice came out in a strangely familiar thick French accent while he still managed to speak fluently in English. The speed of his voice was also quite moderate considering Delmar looked as though he would be hard on hearing in his current state.

"Lord John Delmar _non_? We met here las' month."

Recognising his own name, Delmar's narrowed gaze relaxed a moment but quickly turned to slits. His memory was in a dark fog that had been conjured not long after his forth ale. He made no effort to hide his suspicious and cold nature as it seemed to seep through his words as he spoke.

"I do not remember making such a meeting with the likes of you. Be gone and leave me in peace! I wish to make no conversation with strange folk, especially not a Frenchman like you!"

The young man grinned handsomely but did not heed his rude orders or make any evidence of being offended by his insult. Instead, he sat himself down in the seat opposite him at the small table and took off his black tricorn hat and set it down on the table. Delmar watched as the young man's peers that had stood close by left them alone to surround a close by table, leaving Delmar to question this new comer that he still did not recognise. He studied the young man openly while making no attempt to hide his snide stare. Most of his attire consisted of black and maroon cloth. Though he could not see much, I will inform you that his build was lean but evidentially quite muscular while his face seemed to be chiselled to perfection. He was clad in clothes fit for a man of high class but were considerably dark for someone of his assumed class. However if Lord Delmar was not so drunk and so blurry at the eyes, he would have been shocked or horrified by the colour of the young man's eyes. He had the eyes of a demon. A sea of black accented by a pair of blood red rubies that glowed in the dim light. Fortunately for Remy, they were concealed well by Lord Delmar's blurry vision. But before Delmar could even acknowledge or notice the Captain's _abnormality_, he spoke.

"M' name be Damian Black. _Lord_ Damian Black actually. Last month, we had a game o' cards an' made a wager on de side. Do y' recall m'Lord?"

Lord Delmar narrowed his gaze but did not answer. So Remy made to renew his memory.

"Y' may not remember m' Lord. _Mais_, I do. We came t' de agreement dat if y' should win t'ree games, I would hand over m' ship _et_ a thousand gold pieces."

Delmar's eyes brightened with interest for the first time since the conversation had started. The mention of anything of value seemed to bring about a soberness of mind in the old man.

"However if _I_ came out as de victor. Y' would hand over your most _precious_ granddaughter an' her dowry to _moi_. I've come t' collect my winnings _monsieur_."

Lord Delmar, who had been sculling down as much ale as possible from a half-empty pint, suddenly choked and widened his eyes in shock. Coughing, he pulled out a handkerchief from his coat and put it to his mouth to keep himself from gagging. Once settled, he eyed the young man before him, now remembering the deal that he had made and the wager that he had lost. Though he had been highly intoxicated that night, he knew a bargain was a bargain. He eyed the young man's smug smirk and gave a definite sneer and scoffed distastefully.

"I remember _you_ now. You're that no good Frenchman that robbed me blind and shanghaied me into an unfair wager-"

"Who comes wit' another proposition for y' m' Lord."

_Lord Damian_ could only assume that the old Lord remembered his promise and so continued to speak. However when Delmar made no acknowledgement that he was listening as he sloppily raised his hand to order another pint of ale. Remy raised his own hand and within moments a tavern wench approached within moments, eying him with _great_ interest as he spoke.

"Bring two pints of ale _si vous plaite_?"

The serving wench, a petite blonde with a pretty face, smiled and nodded but took the time to draw a hand along his arm in a seductive sort of way before leaving to get his order. Delmar raised a brow at this but the young Lord didn't take notice, instead, he waited for Delmar to answer.

"Do not presume me to be so persuaded by merely buying my drink, boy. What sort of _proposition _do you have_?"  
_

The young Lord grinned triumphantly. Delmar was most certainly in the mood for a proposition. Raising a hand to silence him for the moment, Remy opened his coat and from a hidden pocket pulled out what Delmar soon came to realise was a deck of cards. Remy began to shuffle them in his hands skilfully. Delmar eyed the cards suspiciously as Remy spoke, dealing the cards while his eyes remained on the apprehensive Lord Delmar.

"One dat might interest y', m'Lord."

Delmar raised a brow, though swivelled slightly in his seat as he replied.

"A card game? But you've already-"

"Den y' agree t' give moi de winnings I earned?"

Delmar gave a stern glare of reply before speaking.

"Tell me your proposition- But first, tell me this. What would you want with my granddaughter? She is of no great importance, unless you-"

"Indeed. I intend to marry her m'Lord. I have heard of her beauty an' dat _abundant _inheritance she holds."

Delmar nodded understandingly. It wasn't so unknown about the girl's wealthy inheritance but how this _Frenchman _came to know about it, he did not know.

"How did a _Frenchman_ come to know of this?"

Remy grinned and let out a small chuckle as he finished dealing the cards and picked up his own hand. He gestured politely towards the free hand. He had the old man right where he wanted him and so spoke.

"_Mon Pére_, wishes for moi t' marry b'fore I turn Twenty-six. He is weak, close to his own end an' wishes to know dat I shall settle down before he leaves dis world. Though he is not long off from de grave, he told moi of y' granddaughter an' so here I am."

"And _who _exactly, is your father?"

Remy smiled like the cat that saw the bowl of cream in sight. He could not contain the smug look across his face as he replied.

"Lord Frances Black _de third_. Y' may have heard of him _non_?"

Lord Delmar's eyes widened with recognition instantly. Lord Frances Black was a well-known and exceedingly wealthy noble of France. He was also highly regarded in by English society. As he recalled these facts, Delmar began to cook his own scheme. If he were to hand over Anna-Marie to this son of Lord Frances Black, he would most certainly be awarded for his _loss_. He may even be reimbursed more than tenfold than the amount of Anna-Marie's inheritance. Though at the thought of this he was elated with greed, he kept his expression free of anything but cold restrain as he spoke.

"I have heard of him. Pray tell me of this proposition of yours, boy."

Remy savoured the feeling of victory inwardly. This had gone smoother than he had hoped for.

"I propose dis. If y' give moi y' granddaughter's hand in marriage an' her entire inheritance from her parents an' allow moi t' stay in y' home until our marriage, I will reward y' for y' loss. I will give y' double de amount of the inheritance money an' leave y' with an' increase in your own fortune."

Lord Delmar's jaw practically hit the floor at his words while his greed became ravenous. The blade had been torn away from his throat. He grasped the young man's hand and shook it continuously. He grinned with genuine elation for the first time in…well, ever.

"You have a deal."


	3. Peculiar Arrangements

**Hey ya'll! Thanks for the reviews! Hope I got ya'll guessing what Remy is up to.**

**-ultimategammy91**

_**Chapter Two – Peculiar Arrangements **_

Anna-Marie D'ancanto let out a stifled gasp of shock as her eyes widened in disbelief. She clasped her hands to her mouth to block the scream that wished to slip through her lips but her efforts proved worthless as she let her hands fall before exclaiming.

"Oh…mah…Lord… She's- she's- Scott- how-?!"

The newly-eighteen-year-old woman stood staring with her mouth agape as words seemed to fail in her state of shock. Her eyes trailed over the magnificent animal before her, the mare's sleek shiny black coat shining in her eyes while its chocolate brown eyes stared back with such power in them she couldn't find anything worthy of comparison. Scott Summers on the other hand gave a knowing yet shy smile before speaking.

"She's all yours. Do you like her?"

Anna-Marie, or more affectionately called Rogue, turned her gaze away from the black mare before her to face him. A brilliant smile formed across her face, the first one in what felt like years, before she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him with all her might. Scott, who was a little too conscious of his rank for her liking, uncomfortably returned the gesture with a feeble hug before stepping out of her hold. Rogue didn't even take notice of his uncomfortable disposition, instead of teasing him for his actions; she returned her attention back to the black horse standing in the stable cubicle before her. She approached it carefully, reaching out a hand as if to offer a peace treaty to the nervous looking mare. When the mare sniffed her hand however, she took the invitation and pat her silky black coat.

"Scott she's beautiful. But how-?"

Scott smiled at Rogue's loss for words once more. The young Stable Master had known Rogue ever since she had arrived here at Delmar Manor, nearly eight years ago and since then he had come to consider her not only as a friend but almost like a sister. She was not like any other woman he knew, she treated everyone with the respect that they deserved and never raised herself to her rank or abused it. She barely even acknowledged it truthfully. Reaching out to the mare, he grasped hold of the reigns that were wrapped around the mare's strong head and lead her out of her stable cubical.

"Alex and I were out in the open some weeks ago. She just appeared almost out of no where, wild as anything. I've been breaking her in at the Grey's stables for the past two months. It took time, but I think she should be safe to ride now."

Rogue nodded in understanding before her gaze returned to the mare before her, her eyes fixed. She felt her heart seem to latch onto the black beauty before her. She could imagine the calm and quite mare to be a wild beauty for she was in a similar case. However, the difference was that the mare before her wasn't caged and beaten. She was. She blocked this thought from mind, not wishing to spoil the moment. Instead her voice grew more subtle and hushed as she turned to Scott once more. The saddened glimmer in her emerald eyes seemed to dull her once bright and jubilant eyes as she spoke.

"What's her name?"

"I _was_ going to call her _Rogue_. But thought that might be a little irritating for the both of you so I called her Éowyn."

A smile plastered itself across Rogue's face before she replied gently.

"Éowyn. Means horse right?"

Scott nodded.

"Do you approve?"

Rogue turned and faced Éowyn and nodded in agreement. Unlike most young women or girls of her rank and sex, she had a tendency of breaking the rules of her role in society which in that case meant wearing men's clothing around the house, though she didn't dare wear them when she was around Lord Delmar and her Aunt Carrie. Otherwise, this was her usual attire. She wore a pair of boy's breeches that were a dark chocolate brown and hugged her curves perfectly as did the pair of boots on her feet and the coat of similar colour that ended no further than mid-thigh. Underneath the coat was a men's white shirt and a belt that wrapped around her petite waist and on most occasions grasped a pair of leather gloves that she tucked through the strap. Apart from her male attire however, there was no doubt that she was a woman. Her rich auburn hair tussled down her back in waves of curls and blew about wildly in the wind while a pair of the most peculiar platinum white streaks framed her face, making her emerald green eyes conspicuous in all their vibrant glory. There was no doubt that Lady Anna-Marie D'ancanto was a unique beauty, her features unlike any other lady or woman of this time but that was only the surface of her character.

"It suits her."

Scott smiled at her reply, pleased with his efforts. Over the last eight years he had watched her grow to be the young woman she was today. She was beautiful, though she never agreed with people when they told her so, but there was a sadness about her that seemed to cling to her no matter what happened. He guessed it to have something to do with her coming to England after her mother's death, but that was only the half of it. There was also the matter of Lord Delmar.

A peaceful silence passed between the two friends and the calm mare but was broken when Scott reached out and took her hand, leading her to the saddle that was already strapped to the black beauty. Rogue gave a nod of agreement before he gave her a leg up to get onto the horse and not a minute later she was safely mounted on Éowyn's back. However, when Rogue looked back to Scott to grin she found him scowling slightly in reply.

"What is it?"

Scott gave a small shake of his head, though it wasn't real disapproval, he still sighed out in reply.

"I still think you should ride side-saddle Rogue. You know you're supposed to."

Rogue shrugged before replying.

"And risk fallin' off mah horse by succumbing to that utter most discomfort? Really Scott, ah thought ya would know better."

She was teasing him on the last remark but on the ladder he knew she was right. Side-saddle may have been fashionable and expected of young ladies who rode but then Rogue was not your average lady and the position was dangerous. Especially at the speed that Rogue took which was usually running with a cunning wind. So he let it slip and replied instead.

"Then away with you! She needs a good run and I'm pretty sure, _Miss_, that after the disaster of yesterday that you deserve one too."

Rogue smiled back at him, thankfully. She was about to tug on the reins when Scott reached out and hand and caught a handful of the mare's black mane, stopping her. When Rogue looked down on him, she found warning in his eyes.

"Be sure you come back before dusk. You grandfather told me he's having a guest stay at the manor."

Rogue nodded in understanding before nudging the mare's sides with her left heal and galloping off into the wind, away from the prison of Delmar Manor. She had no inkling what so ever that in about two hours, her life would never be the same again.

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When Remy Lebeau arrived not two hours into the early afternoon his gaze rose to the grand Manor before him but his demonic gaze narrowed to a soft glare. The Manor screamed; prison. He felt a definite shiver run down his spine as he eyed the daunting gothic exterior that was Delmar Manor and to say the least, it made him feel like he was about to walk into prison without a key in hand. But despite his dislike of the place, he continued on with a fearless face. He had no other choice. The journey to this _prison _had been long and tiresome but he would've taken it all over again if it meant he wouldn't have to step through the black doors before him, but that wasn't an option. Letting out a silent sigh before the plunge, he stepped out of the carriage and made his way to the door with his _servant_ John behind him. When he came to the door however, he hesitated slightly and to no avail, John noticed.

"It ain't gonna bite Captain."

The Captain rolled his eyes at his best mate but didn't reply. Instead, he reached out a hand and nocked on the door several times. John could only chuckle inaudibly. Not two minutes later however, the door swung open and from behind appeared a rickety old man. With a nose that resembled much of a hook and dressed in a suit no drearier or darker than the house, he stared at the two men with narrowed eyes, his shock white hair frizzy but tied out of his face as he spoke.

"May I help you _sir?"_

Putting his façade in place, Remy smiled and replied, his voice thick with the arrogance he intended to display to the old man as he spoke.

"I am Lord Damien Black. Your Master is expectin' _moi_."

The old man narrowed his grey eyes but wordlessly opened the door for him to pass through, standing back as his rank and job dictated. He led the two men in while a pair of servants retrieved the three trunks that Remy had brought with him. They heaved them through the doorway like they were carrying the weight of the world in their hands. Meanwhile, Remy took the moment to eye the new surroundings only to find his opinion was none too different from his first. He really was in a prison.

The clearing of a throat brought him out of his thoughts and when he turned he saw the old man was still there and though his face remained neutral of distain, his eyes spoke otherwise as he spoke.

"Master Delmar is in his study at the moment. Shall I send for him my Lord?"

"_Oui._ Go ahead."

The old man gave a low bow, a hint of a scowl across his almost skeletal-like features. Remy got the insinuation that the manservant wasn't one to cross but gave no indication of his mistrust as the old man hobbled away. To pass the time, Remy began to circle the grand entrance hall that he had been left in, eying old artefacts that had been places about the daunting room. However, not five minutes later the front door swung open and in came an unfamiliar figure, dressed in a pair of breeches, shirt and a vest. A mane of auburn hair blocked the face from view as well as the fact that the figure's back was turned. Her demeanour practically screamed female, causing a charming smirk to cross his face.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

After two hours of freedom from her caged existence, Rogue decided to be a little daring and enter through the main entrance. Out of breath, and flushed from the ride, she had handed one of the stable boys- William, to take Éowyn back to her stable. She called out her thanks as she open the heavy doors, entering the room backwards as she called out in an unladylike fashion.

"Thank ya Will! Be careful with her, she's a bit o' a wild one!"

She entered the entrance hall with her back to the staircase so did not notice the two figures standing behind her or the amused smirk that flashed across the Lord's face at her entrance. Smiling, she turned around but instantly froze in place as her self-conscious side began to kick in along with the fact that she was staring at a pair of the most peculiar looking pair of eyes she had ever seen. Where there should have been white, there was an abyss of black and where there should have been blue or brown was a blood red colour that seemed to glow with his smirk. Rogue's smile died instantaneously, before she spoke. Hard, cold ice encaged her heart while a mask was set over her face and overthrew her usual Southern Drawl.

"You must be the guest my Grandfather is expecting?"

The young Lord, as she presumed him to be, was silent for a moment or two before his grin broadened into a smile while his eyes seemed to trail over her, making her feel all exposed and almost translucent. Not that she let it show. No sooner had he smiled, he raised a hand for her to take before he spoke.

"_Oui_. Lord Damien Black. Y' mus' be_ Mademoiselle Anna-Marie non?_"

Rogue eyed the gloved hand but took it nonetheless, expecting only a small touch before taking it back again. But the moment her hand rest in his, his hand enveloped her own hand in a gentle but firm hold before he raised it to his lips and kissed it ever so lightly while his gaze never left her own. Rogue was not so impressed by his gentleman-like behaviour and raised a feminine brow at him before taking back her hand. He was handsome, she would admit that, but she wasn't falling for his smile or his smooth words. She made to walk away as she spoke.

"Pleasure. Now if ya'll would excuse me-"

"Dat a Southern accent dere _chérie_?"

His words stopped her in her tracks. Not one person, at least not in her social acquaintance, had figured out that she hid her true accent, but a total stranger had managed to crack the code. Rogue raised another brow at him in curiosity. She could tell from his accent that he was of French decent and possibly was one himself, but why her grandfather would have a French man come stay with them was beyond her reasoning. She distinctly heard her grandfather say on many occasions of how much he loathed those _"French Bastards"_ and so couldn't imagine why he would let one stay with them, let alone walk through the door.

"Excuse me?"

He grinned shamelessly.

"Y' have a Southern drawl under dat English accent _mon chére_. _C'est votre accent vrai, n'est-il pas?" _(That is your true accent, is it not?)

Rogue forced herself not to be impolite and roll her eyes at him. Instead, she decided to use her wit.

"_Oui Monsieur. Telle est ma véritable accent. Et qu'est-ce que tu? Français? Ou êtes-vous simplement essayer de faire une mauvaise impression de parler dans la langue que vous penser que je ne comprends pas?"_

(Yes Sir. That is my true accent. And what are you? French? Or are you simply trying to make a bad impression by speaking in language you assume that I cannot understand?)

John, who had been listening attentively to the conversation, gave a definite snort of laughter but quickly stifled it to a cough- remembering his place. Remy's eyes widened for about a second before he pulled his mask back on and smirked at the spirited young woman before him.

"_Dis one definitely has a sharp tongue…Mon dieu."  
_

"_Pardon moi_ if I insulted y' _chére_. He meant no offence."

"Already forgotten. Now if ya'll will excuse me."

She gave a quick nod of a curtsy which he returned with a short bow before she left the room and ascended the staircase. As she did so, her mind wound around one question; why in the world would her grandfather have _this_ French Man come stay with them?

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**Yes I must end it there! Next chapter….Rogue finds out the truth- or more, part of the truth. REVEIEW PLEASE!!!**

**-ultimategammy91**


	4. Put You in Your Place

**Wow so many reviews! Thanks guys! **

**-ultimategammy91**

_**Chapter Three - Put You in Your Place**_

Two hours later Rogue walked down the long corridor leading to the sitting room dressed in what her grandfather would call the _appropriate attire_ _for a young lady of nobility_. Her hair was swept back into an elegant bun of curls while her white streaks curled and framed her face. Not one piece of jewellery was placed on her person, for Lord Delmar highly disapproved of her wearing such things and frankly had no interest in spending anything on jewels for _her_. The gown she wore was a bright lavender colour, accented by a few unnecessary trimmings and ribbons and though it hugged her figure perfectly, it showed very little skin. Her shoulders were covered in the velvet material of the gown while the arm line ran to her elbows and from there was a lace material of a light cream colour that swept down the rest of her arms. When Rogue had first laid eyes on the purple demon, she had the sudden urge to set it a flame and stomp on its remains. She despised the dress with the uttermost dislike but her Aunt Carrie, the matron of the house, had insisted on it and would not hear any complaints. So here she stood, dressed like a good behaved doll. Rogue _hated_ dolls.

As she descended the candle-lit corridor she could already hear voices float down from the dining hall. A mix of her Aunt's forged laughter and that of a charming Cajun accent as well as the distinguishable grunt of her grandfather. When Rogue came to the door she stopped herself in her steps and inhaled deeply. She was about to be thrown into the snake pit, naked and uncertain of her outcome. Letting out a deep intake of breath, she opened the door and walked through.

"Ah. Here she is. Anna-Marie dear, do come and meet our guest."

To anyone else, Aunt Carrie's words would seem sweet and endearing towards her niece but to Rogue, they were artificial and forced out. Aunt Carrie had been her mother's younger sister by two years but it had been quickly realised that Carrie-Anne Delmar was her father's favourite over her older sister. She was every bit her father while Pricilla had been every bit her mother. She was cold, demanding and like her father, she had no compassion or love for her niece. Tonight however, the spinster matron, as many of the servants had dubbed her over the years, was simulating the role of a kind hostess and a loving Aunt. Dressed in a fancy looking navy gown with probably more unnecessary ribbons and trimmings than Rogue's, her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her head, giving away her blue eyes in all their malicious glory. A sweetly artificial smile was swept across her face to hide away her true intentions but Rogue had a feeling that anyone would be able to see the fangs behind the toothless smile. The sight of her aunt made Rogue cringe inwardly, for it was most sickening to see her Aunt so _cheerful_ in the company of others. However, Rogue's attention was quickly reframed to the guest standing in the room. The guest who's gaze was set upon _her_.

"Anna-Marie, may I introduce Lord Damien Black. His Lordship is a _business partner_ of your grandfather's."

Lord Black, as she noticed, was dressed to the nines in a coat and cravat of a deep maroon colour while a black ruffled shirt poked out from under his well-defined chin. She was sure that if her Aunt could word her disapproval, which she inevitably couldn't, she would've asked if he had gone to a funeral. Rogue however was just grateful that he wasn't one of those pompous aristocrats who took up the more _modern_ trends of bright colours and outrageous style. It wouldn't have done him much justice. But the moment that Lord Black began to smile at her, she felt her first approval of his appearance shift as if he _was_ standing before her in an outrageously coloured and florescent outfit. She tried not to scowl with annoyance as he took her un-gloved hand in his and raised it to his lips again.

"_Bonjour mademoiselle."_

Rogue feebly returned the smile as she fought back the urge to glare. But if he wasn't going to mention their meeting, neither would she. However, when she took back her hand, the young Lord winked at her. She felt a blush threaten to rise across her cheeks but she did her best to push it back. He didn't seem so much like ceremonial pompous anymore but more of a flirt. Luckily however, neither her Grandfather nor her Aunt took much notice of this exchange. For not a moment after the brief _introduction _the butler, Roy, entered the room and announced dinner. Aunt Carrie immediately took Lord Delmar's outstretched arm and made for the dining hall doors that were connected to the room, leaving Rogue prey to the young Lord. Lord Black raised his arm for her to take as he spoke.

"Shall I escort y' t' dinner _mademoiselle_?"

In her mind, Rogue was yelling no, but on the outside, she gave a blunt nod and took his arm. She was grateful that it was only a few moments before he let her arm go and allowed her to sit down, not without pulling out the chair for her in the process. Once they were all seated Aunt Carrie decided to break into conversation, particularly with their new guest. Being a spinster at her thirty-four years of age or 'widow' as she told anyone who was naïve enough to believe, she did her very best to show her more _appealing_ attributes towards guests. But unfortunately that didn't repent for her sins as a spinster. Not in this time and age.

"So my Lord, where is that you hail from? I do not believe my father mentioned that part when he said you would be staying with us."

They were just through the last course when Aunt Carrie decided to spark this conversation. Rogue nearly snorted but disguised it by taking a sip of her wine. Lord Delmar was unlikely to entrust any _important _information to anyone in his house, his personal snitch Roy perhaps, but not Aunt Carrie. But despite this little _Delmar-law_, as she called it, Aunt Carrie loved to look impressive and well-informed in front of guests and so she could not help but do so now as she waited for the Lord to reply. Rogue listened in union with her aunt, curiosity getting the better of her.

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When Remy had entered the waiting room about fifteen minutes before dinner was due to be served, he had been silently hoping that he would find no one there to greet him. How wrong he had been. Lady Carrie-Anne Delmar, Lord Delmar's spinster daughter, had been sitting in the waiting room for over half an hour. And though her welcome had been nice enough, her smile flawless and her manners quaint, he had the sudden impression of a wolf dressed in a lamb's fleece. Kind and gentle upon meeting but could no soon discard the disguise and brandish wolfish fangs. He was only glad that he needed only to wait twenty minutes before Lord Delmar arrived and shortly after, Anna-Marie; her arrival being the highlight of the night.

After their short introduction in the entrance hall he had to suffer a lot of taunting from John. The excentric Australian had struggled to hold back his laughter when he rolled his eyes or told him to shut up while inside however, he was tempted to join him in the hilarity of it all. Not one woman, in France, the Caribbean or America had been able to get past his _charm_ as he would call it. Meaning, no woman had ever put him in his place. And to be truthful, he found it quite alluring how she could do that. She posed a personal challenge and if his name wasn't Remy Lebeau, which it technically it wasn't at the moment, he would win her over. Now however, he would have to deal with bystanders like Lord and Lady Delmar.

Smiling, in what he hoped was a convincingly polite manner, he replied Lady Delmar's question.

"I have lived in many places _Madame._ _Mais_ France is always home." 

Remy didn't miss Lord Delmar's grunt of disapproval but under the circumstances he didn't comment on it. But it didn't stop his eyes from wandering over to the head of the table. Lord Delmar had been seemingly content on eating his meal in silence. Though he kept an ear out for anything of importance or in Remy's case; disapproval. Aunt Carrie on the other hand, held her lashing tongue back and smiled almost too nice for comfort before replying.

"France? Paris I presume?" 

XXXXXXXXXXXXX **(btw basically this means a switching of povs or scenes) **

Rogue noticed her grandfather's disapproving grunt but was thankful that he didn't _say_ anything more. Even if a man like Lord Damien Black were at the receiving end of Lord Delmar's word slashing she would not wish that fate on them. Aunt Carrie however, continued to be _pleasant_ as she continued to press him with questions. Rogue let her eyes wander away from her plate to eye him from across the table only to be caught in his gaze. There was a teasing glint in his eyes that was almost as flirtatious as that wink he'd given her earlier. The moment passed when he replied, raising his glass of wine to his lips.

"_Oui Madame. _-My Lord Delmar. Have y' an' y' family ever been t' de city of lights? De city be _magnifique_ dis time a year." 

Rogue's eyes instantly lit up in horror as she tried her best not to choke on her food. She had just swallowed a particularly chewy piece of meat and now it was practically scraping down the walls of her throat. Her eyes began to water and her face reddened but she didn't let a sound escape her. She turned her gaze towards her grandfather whose eyes were now practically burning with hellfire towards Lord Black. No one, not even Aunt Carrie, dared to speak of _undesirable_ topics in front of Lord Delmar. In this case, undesirable, meaning anything to do with the French. However, when Rogue turned her gaze to the _offender_ she found his face was serenely composed with a casual smile. He wasn't even fazed by her grandfather's murderous gaze.

Again, Rogue turned back to look at her grandfather. He looked like he was about to blow a fuse his face was so red with anger. He looked just about ready to box the young Lord's ears when she did the most unexpected and inevitably careless thing ever. She opened her mouth and spoke.

"My grandfather doesn't really like to travel all that much. London lights are just about all we've seen."

All eyes, especially Lord Delmar's, turned to her, Rogue felt instantly like she was being pushed into a corner. If Lord Delmar had been angry before, he was absolutely furious now. A vein that was visible just above the collar of his shirt began to bulge considerably and his face turned from red to purple almost instantly. Rogue held back a shaky breath of air as her face remained placid of expression. All fears were held bottled up inside as Lord Delmar glared at her. But instead of bellowing blue murder another unsuspecting thing happened. Lord Delmar's face turned pink again while his wrinkled furrowed brow eased slightly but did not reframe from a scowl. He let out a breath of air to sustain his attempt to keep calm. And then he opened his mouth and spoke.

"Forgive my granddaughter for her rudeness Lord Damien. She has a knack for speaking when she should remain _silent_."

The word '_silent'_ whipped off his tongue like he had slapped her across the face. An apprehensive silence passed through the room in which Rogue took the time to mentally slap herself for her actions. Of course she had done nothing _wrong _but in doing what was right she had put herself into the crossfire. She knew what fate would await her after she was out of sight from their guest. But before she could dwell in the thought, Lord Damien spoke up.

"Dere is nothing to forgive m' Lord. A granddaughter who knows her grandfather so well should be rewarded f' her efforts."

And with that he turned to Rogue and flashed a charming smile and she noticed there was a winking glint in his eyes. Rogue felt her cheeks flush pink but she didn't think of stopping it. _'Did he just…?'_ She couldn't even put to words what he had done. When her eyes turned to look at her grandfather she found that the terrible glare that he had given her was once again plastered across his face but this time it was directed at the grinning young man sitting across from her. Rogue could barely believe what she had witnessed. He had actually pushed Lord Delmar back in his place and had retorted to his scolding without so much as a trace of fear or regret afterwards. But after the moment had passed, Lord Delmar's glare turned back to her and she quickly revert her eyes back to her plate. Little good that did.

"Oh she shall be rewarded my Lord."

And boy did she know what kind of reward her grandfather was referring to.

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**MUHAHAHAHA! TAKE THAT YOU SYNICAL BASTARD! lol. Okay now press that review button and tell me what you think! I think I deserve some really nice comments for putting Delmar in his place! Hehe go REMY!  
**

**-ultimategammy91**


	5. The Signs of Abuse

**Hey ya'll! OMG so many reviews. You all rock! **

**By the way (as of 9****th**** December 2008) I've edited this chapter. I'll be doing this now and again with old chapters. Just so you know. **

**-ultimategammy91**

**Chapter Four – The Signs of Abuse**

The room was drenched in the lingering silence of the early morning. Golden yellow walls of the room were diminished by the clouded morning sky, setting the room in a depressing state despite the fact that there was only one window in the room. When Lord Delmar had taken his granddaughter under his wing, he had made certain not to let the spitfire of a girl have a room with her own balcony. Therefore, when Anna-Marie had asked that she stay in her mother's room, he had scolded her until tears streamed down her cheeks. The last time that he had allowed his ward to have a room with a balcony he had practically handed his soon-to-be _son-in-law_ a key and welcome mat to his daughter's bedroom. He would not make the same mistake twice. He had made a promise to himself that what he had failed with his own daughter, he would make up for with his granddaughter. There would be no more mistakes in Delmar's books but with a girl like Anna-Marie on his hands, he had been forced to mark a few pages, even well after Anna-Marie had come of age.

Rogue stared deeply into the souls of the pair emerald eyes that gazed back at her. She sat alone at her dressing table in the prison of her own room, clad only in her bed wear and a light green dressing robe. Her gaze lingered in her own reflection as the gloom of the morning swarmed around her. Auburn curls and platinum white streaks ran freely about her shoulders and down her back while her expression remained emotionless. That was until her gaze locked on the dark circle under her eye again. The small cut under her left eye had bruised a deep purple colour while the small cut had thankfully stopped bleeding not long after her maid had tended to it. She raised a gentle finger to graze over it lightly but flinched at the contact. Last night's events had left its mark.

"_Ah guess ah deserved that. Should've kept mah mouth shut or else he would've- No. Don't think lahke that. It was __**not**__ mah fault."_

Sighing with annoyance at her own mental battle, she couldn't help but let her mind fall back to the events of the previous night. The pain of it all rang through her mind vivid and undistorted.

_-Flashback- _

"_Anna-Marie, I would like to have a word with you before you leave."_

_Rogue froze almost literally in her place. She had almost gotten away from her grandfather when Lord Damien had suggested that they, meaning herself, Lord Delmar and Aunt Carrie, adjourn to the sitting room for a glass of wine. But she had been foolish to think that Lord Delmar would delay her torture and torment and she would have cringed if she hadn't known what it would cost her. Instead, she turned to Lord Damien and Aunt Carrie and muttered an "excuse me" before being led through an opposing door with Lord Delmar at her heals. However as she walked past Lord Damien, she couldn't stop herself from raising her gaze to meet his own only to be taken by surprise. His demonic eyes were engraved with what she could only decipher as concern and possibly a little remorse as well. Though it was only for a moment that they locked gaze, she felt she somehow knew that he __**knew**__ what was going on. That he knew that Lord Delmar was going to give her a beating once she stepped out of the room. Sadly however, she wasn't given the chance to mingle or question his emotions. For not a moment later, Lord Delmar fused his hand around her arm and firmly but discreetly pulled her from the room._

_The moment that they stepped out of the light and into the dark of the room Lord Delmar dashed his façade of a temperate bull and flung Rogue away from him like she was diseased or poisonous. The force would have nocked her to the floor if she hadn't been so used to it, for she caught herself before she could fall. But when she steadied herself on her feet, Lord Delmar grasped her around the throat and levelled his gaze with her own in a firm grip. His blue eyes were like ice and fire as anger radiated off him in the dim lighting of the hallway. Rogue didn't scream, she couldn't catch her breath long enough to let one out. She would __**not**__ give him any satisfaction nor let him know how much she really feared him. Instead, she kept a neutral face but it was an ill-fated attempt for she couldn't stop herself from struggling to rip his hand away from her throat._

"_You."  
_

_He spat out the word like it was vomit on his tongue. His voice was almost as venomous as it was when he said her _real name_. His thick, silver eye brows were furrowed and deepened his glare as he continued to hiss._

"_I do not require the likes of __**you**__to speak so freely of what is __**my**__ concern. Now what do you have to say for your actions? Hmm?"_

_She didn't speak, or more couldn't because of the grasp of his hand around her near-collapsing throat. Though Lord Delmar was not a man whose belt length measured the same as his greed, he was a good head or so taller than Rogue and somewhat stronger. Hence, when she did not answer he let his grip loosen from her throat only for his hand to draw back before backhanding her across the face in a harsh slap. Rogue bit down on her lower lip to save herself from crying out but it only muffled it as she fell against the behind wall with a thud. As she slid to the ground, Lord Delmar began to prod and poke the air before her in accusation as his words did their own damage._

"_You deceitful brat! Again you defy me, now answer me! What have you to say for your actions?"_

_Rogue raised her gaze from the floor. Her white streaks fell across her face and diminished the redness forming over her right cheek. She blinked back hurtful tears as she managed to croak out. _

"_Ah- Grandfather Ah apologise for mah- ah mean __**my-**__"_

_She barely got the words out before Lord Delmar grasped her by the arm in a tight hold and pulled her roughly to her feet. He didn't leave her standing long before letting another hand slap her across the face, this time with his right hand._

"_Do not talk to me in such disgusting tongues girl. I did not raise a trash talking __**Yank.**__" _

_Rogue lingered with her head turned to the side for a few moments before she raised a hand to her cheek only to wince painfully at the contact. Lord Delmar had turned his family ring, a bulky chunk of gold and sapphire, to face the palm of his hand before he had hit her. The ring had left its mark under her left eye in the form of a small cut that now bled profusely. Luckily however, before he could invoke any more pain on her, the door that they had entered through was swung open. Roy the butler came hobbling through, struggling to catch his breath until he managed to rasp out a few words._

"_Master! The- there- West –room!"_

"_Oh for God's sake, out with it already Mister Roy! What is it?"_

_Roy took a huge gulp of air then another before managing to speak. This time, he managed to speak without stuttering._

"_My Lord. There has been an accident in the West sitting room. The sofa caught a flame- Lady Delmar is most upset and Lord Black requests your presence." _

_Lord Delmar's face turned a deeper shade of red, even in the dimly lit hallway, it was profusely recognisable. He turned his gaze away from Roy to land on his granddaughter who stood silently against the wall with her head still turned to the side. He loosened his grip from her arm before barking orders at Roy and disappearing through the door. Rogue was left alone and for about fifteen minutes she stood in the same position. Frozen in place. It was only when her maid, Sarah, came by her on her way to see what the commotion was about that she actually moved. _

_-End of flash back- _

Rogue shuddered slightly as she broke away from the memory. When she came out of her moment of thought she realised that a nock had come from the door and one of the kitchen maids' distinctive voice could be heard floating through from the other side.

"Come in Sarah."

The door swung open only for a petite young woman to step into the room, attired in a simple maid's dress and bonnet with a breakfast tray in her hands. When Sarah entered the room, a smile was already plastered across her pretty face but when her eyes landed on her mistress her smile disappeared and her jaw dropped open. The firm hold on the tray loosened and nearly slipped out of her hands but she managed to compose herself again before any real damage could be done. Sarah's bright blue eyes widened with concern as she spoke.

"Oh Lord- Miss? What-What happened to you?"

Rogue let a sarcastic smile grace her lips.

"Don't worry 'bout meh Sarah. Its jus' a scratch." 

But Sarah did worry about it. Even after Rogue had reassured her, she continued to stare at the bruised cut under Rogue's eye and pass concerned looks from time to time. But it was as she set up breakfast on the small table in the room that she began to fuss over her.

"Miss-"

"Sarah ah'm fahne, really. It isn't that serious."

"Rogue." 

"No Sarah." 

This time Rogue resorted to a more forceful tone. She wasn't one to abuse her status rights so freely but right now she could not handle Sarah's concerned looks and fussing. She couldn't take her pity, nor did she want it. Reluctantly, Sarah nodded and continued about her chores in silence. She kept all concern and comments to herself.

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_**Meanwhile…**_

Remy let out a sigh of frustration as he leant against the door frame of his balcony. His demonic gaze roamed over the view before him. The ever green hills and the nearby woodlands were dull in comparison to the thousands of places he had been and seen over the course of his twenty-four years of life. He had been around the world a few dozen times. He had sailed up and down the Nile, walked the streets of Paris and had taste the wonders of Italy along with a thousand other places but nothing could compare to the dullness of England. However, this was not what was on his mind at that moment. While his gaze attached itself to the dull scenery, his fingers clutched a single playing card; an Ace of Hearts. He flipped and turned it between his nimble fingers while his arms remained crossed over his well-defined chest. The chill of the early morning didn't affect him so much when he was indoors, so he stood only in a pair of breeches and a black undershirt that hung quite loosely over his lean but muscular build. His auburn hair was left loose down his shoulders, coming only just below his shoulders. He was a vision of pure masculinity and god-like features. Meanwhile, while his eyes and hands were occupied, his mind was deep in thoughts of the night before.

When Lord Delmar had asked Anna-Marie to speak with him he knew that something was wrong. He had been surprised that she had put herself in the crossfire when he angered Lord Delmar. Hence, a sense of responsibility had overcome him. The hate and anger that Lord Delmar had been trying to restrain during dinner had practically been radiating off him and he didn't need to be a genius to know that it was directed at his granddaughter. However, when Anna-Marie had turned towards the door and his eyes had locked with hers he couldn't help but feel that sense of responsibility kick in as well as an added dose of concern for the woman. He didn't know what Lord Delmar planed to do to her, but from the pending dread that seemed to poison her jade-green eyes, he knew that it wasn't going to be pleasant. Though she hid her fear and anxiety well through out dinner, he could practically hear her emotions. He had a feeling she had known what awaited her outside that door and he couldn't help but admire her for her strength. Any other girl would've been a puddle of tears if their parent had been as cruel as Delmar had. He was quick to realise how different this girl- woman, was. When Lord Delmar and Anna-Marie had left the room, he had been led away by Lady Delmar into the sitting room to be tortured by the woman's constant façade of laughter and chatter. He waited anxiously for some kind of sign that all was well but when fifteen minutes passed, he felt his theories confirmed. Anna-Marie was most definitely in trouble and he was certain it was of his doing. At that, inspiration caught him. He asked Lady Delmar if she minded him smoking but before she could even wrinkle her nose in disgust like he knew she just itched to do, he'd already pulled one out of his coat. However, when he lit the cigar, he _accidentally _let the match slip from his fingers causing the couch to ignite in flames. Surely enough, five minutes later the butler came in after hearing Lady Delmar's screams of terror. He would've grinned with amusement had there be more important things at stake. Instead, he sent Roy after the Master and not another five minutes later, after the flames had been put out of course, Lord Delmar came through the door looking more purple in the face than usual. The look had been priceless. Though his distraction had worked in getting Delmar away from his granddaughter, he couldn't call it a complete success for he didn't know whether or not it helped Anna-Marie at all. And it was this fact that troubled him so.

He had known, when Delmar had agreed to their bargain, that there was obviously no love between himself and his granddaughter. But never had he thought it would be this intense. He wondered if it was because of Delmar that Anna-Marie had held back her obviously Southern accent. Did he hate her so much that he would put restriction on the way she spoke? Remy felt his anger rise at the mere thought. What else could that bastard do to restrict and control her life? Though he didn't notice it at first, the Ace of Hearts in his hand crumpled under his fingers as he clenched it tightly. He made a promise to himself to see Anna-Marie today and see if his distraction his done it's job well. If it hadn't, then he could only hope that the Wedding plans go along swiftly so that he could get her away from this place. A change of scenery would do the both of them some good.

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**Like? Very sad I know, but next chapter should have more Remy/Rogue moments. REVIEW! Tell me how much you despise Delmar! I'll accept flames if they're directed at Delmar!**

**-ultimategammy91**


	6. Right and Wrong

**Hey ya'll! OMG only 5 chapters up and I already 64 reviews. Hmmm some people must like me! (or at least my work! Which is WAY more important of course!) thanks everyone! Keep them reviews coming!**

**-ultimategammy91**

**BTW – This chapter is dedicated to ****Wanda W ****! Thank you for the inspiration and I hope you like this chapter! **

**Chapter Five – Right and Wrong**

"Dear god! Rogue what-? What happened to you?"

Rogue winced inwardly. She was caught. After breakfast she had slipped on a pair of black breeches, a silk blue blouse, boots, vest and a black trench coat before sneaking out of the manor in the direction of the stables. She had hoped that by some small chance she might slip into the stables without being seen but of course, her hopes were set too high. She had made it as far as the stable cubicle where Éowyn was kept but when the black beauty's gaze set upon her, she became excited and restless. Despite Rogue's attempts to hush her, the commotion Éowyn made was enough to achieve attention. Rogue gave a feeble smile that she hoped would be convincing enough for her friend, but alas, Scott knew her all too well. He also knew the abuse that Lord Delmar inflicted upon her.

Concern wrote itself clear across Scott's face as he stared at Rogue or more the bruised cut on her left cheek. With a gentle hand, he reached out and cupped the side of her face to take a closer look at the wound. Rogue flinched slightly but quickly recovered, calming herself with her own reassuring thoughts. Scott was the closest thing to an older brother she had ever had and she knew that he would not dare hurt her as many of the men in her life had done over the years. But that didn't stop her from flinching at the contact. It was impulsive, not intended. Scott however, did not take notice of the reaction. Instead he waited for an answer from his surrogate-sister.

"Rogue_ please_. What happened last night? I heard that that _Lord Black_ set the couch a flame. Did your grandfather _blame _you for that?"

Rogue's eyes widened for a moment but her surprise soon turned to suspicion. A frown marred her bruised features as Scott's words formed a mass of questions in her mind. _Lord Black had been the cause of the fire? _She didn't know whether to be curious, amused or thankful. For it was true, if that distraction had not taken place, her grandfather could have done much worse than a mere cut and bruising. But right now, the concern in Scott's brown eyes had to be dealt with. Giving a small sigh of defeat, she explained the events of the night before. Though she left out the true reason for her grandfather's anger towards her, it made little difference. Scott had lived at the Delmar estate since his parents had abandoned him and his younger brother Alex and knew very well of Lord Delmar's _attributes. _He had never been exposed to the _real_ wrath of Lord Delmar but the bruises, cuts and other signs of abuse on Rogue were enough to give him an idea. So naturally, he needed little explanation of the reason as to _why_ Lord Delmar had beaten her and Rogue used this to her advantage.

"Did he do anything else besides _this?"_

Rogue shook her head. _A lie_. There was a slight bruising around her neck from where her grandfather had nearly choked her to death and her voice rasped slightly from the damage. She did not want Scott to worry any more than he already was, so she kept her mouth shut and hoped he would believe her. Scott seemed convinced, though his worry was still evident across his face. Rogue tried her best to wipe it away.

"Look Scott, ah'm fahne. It's not even that serious. Ya know as well as ah do that ah've had worse. _This-"_

She pointed to the cut.

"-Will be gone in a few days."

"Rogue, no matter how small the beating is it still isn't right. Your grandfather is a monster-"

In a flash, Rogue put her fingers to his lips and hushed him. Her eyes darted back and forth to check that no one had overheard. When the coast was clear she let out a relieved sigh. Her weary eyes closed for a moment before she turned back to Scott and whispered hurriedly.

"Scott! _Do not _talk about him lahke that so openly out here! That snitch Roy could be snoopin' about an' ya know that." 

Scott rolled his eyes, but took a cautious look about the open stable. Roy would no sooner glue his ears to the walls if it meant he would get a few gold coins and more favoured treatment from his master. The manservant's snooping was a fine ticket to that luxury and with a house of servants who despised and spoke against the Lord of the household it was all too easy for Roy to seek his riches and benefit over the others. However, what he did not count on was for the servants of the house, as well as Rogue, to catch onto this _loyalty_ towards Lord Delmar. When Scott was sure that the coast was clear of Roy and his sensitive ears and eyes, he spoke again. Though his anger was calmed somewhat since caution had taken over, his tone was full of warning and distain.

"Rogue, what _that man _does to you is not _right_."

"Ah know."

Scott let a small sigh of helplessness escape him. If he were of higher station, or at least a more capable station, he would do everything in his power to protect her or at least get her away from such a life of pain. When Rogue had first come to England, when she was eight, she had just lost both her parents. Despite this however, she had still been a lively and wild little girl, so unaware of the pain she would endure over the next ten years. The first three months that she had been at Delmar Manor were hard to come by for such a spitfire of a girl. Lord Delmar's restrictions took a while to become used to and with each rule she broke or questioned she was given a few beatings and scars to remember them by. She was powerless against her Grandfather's anger. Within the first year, she became withdrawn and quiet even when it was only she and the small number of friends she had made, Scott included. It was a rare moment when someone found Anna-Marie smiling. Silently promising to find some kind of way out of this mess, Scott rest a reassuring hand on Rogue's shoulder, his consciousness of ranks forgotten in his time of concern, before speaking again.

"If I could protect you or find a way to get you away from all this, you know I would take it Rogue." 

Rogue gave a grateful smile, though feeble before returning the reassuring gesture.

"Ah know that. And ah appreciate ya bein' so concerned. Ya've been a good friend t' meh over these last ten years."

The two shared knowing smiles while their minds rolled back over the memories they'd shared over the last decade. Scott had always been her shoulder to cry while he and his brother Alex had also been her childhood friends. Her older surrogate brothers even, but they were not able to protect her from her grandfather. Not when they depended so desperately on Lord Delmar's charity and pay. However, when they did decide to act brashly against Lord Delmar, Rogue was there to reassure and plead with them not to act on her behalf so boldly. So far, she had succeeded in doing so but little did she know what fate had in store for them. As the smiles faded, Rogue subconsciously tucked back a stray lock of hair behind her left ear before making her way backwards to Éowyn while she continued to speak.

"Listen, ah'm gonna go take Éowyn for a ride around the hills. Ah'll beh back before mid-day. Alright?"

Scott made to protest, give a few excuses, her health or the dark clouds nearing their way to make her stay but as soon as the reasons came to mind he let them go. Any place was better than here at the moment and it was a rare occasion when Rogue was able to leave so freely. Lady Delmar was in town to buy something or rather, Lord Delmar was locked in his study with his collection of gold and silver while Lord Black was seemingly still preoccupied in his own room. So, with a heavy sigh and a reassuring yet feeble smile, Scott watched her leave. Little did he know, as Rogue mounted her horse and left at a quick pace, that another pair of eyes watched from not too short a distance while his ears had picked up on the entire conversation between the Lady and the Stable Keeper.

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Johns cursed through his teeth as he regained his footing against the polished marble floor. The cold marble had been his nemesis since his very first step in Delmar Manor and would remain so if it continued to be a nuisance, especially when he was in a hurry. Damning floor polish to hell, John ran up the stair way, nearly knocking a maid off her feet as he went, before sprinting down the West Wing. He made a few turns and double takes of corridors before finally finding the intended door. He knocked on the mahogany door briskly but entered before an answer could be given. When he closed the door behind him, he leant against the door to catch his breath while Remy, who had been in the middle of reading some sea charts, looked up from his desk.

"Somet'ing important y' wanted t' tell _moi _John?"

John nodded and despite being half out of breath, he began to speak. He pointed towards the window, which had a perfect view of the hills, and managed to rasp out.

"Yer- Yer _fiancée's _gone f' a ride out in the- in the hills! Might- might get a chance t' smooth things over… oh hell, that marble floor's a damn bitch…"

No sooner had the word 'fiancée' escaped his lips, Remy had jumped from his chair and bolted for the door. Picking up his tan trench coat from atop a nearby chair as he went, he abandoned John who continued to cuss marble floors and floor polish and sprinted in the direction of a door- any door- that would get him to the stables in time to mount his horse and catch up to Anna-Marie. That morning, Remy had ordered John to spy for him, to keep an eye on Anna-Marie and inform him if anything drastic happened or if an opportunity arose for him to speak with her, _alone_. Now he had the chance, he was going to take it and he was going to make good use of it.

After a couple of hundred turns and bends and near-collisions with passing servants, Remy came to a door leading to the outer-grounds. Quickening his pace, he walked out the door in the direction of the stables and not two minutes later, he was mounting his own horse, _Demon,_ and riding off in search of Anna-Marie.

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Rogue let a sigh of content, an action she had not been able to do in what felt like a lifetime. As her shoulders dropped, she let her arms spread out on either side and closed her eyes shut. Éowyn continued on her slow, steady trot over the tall grass of the hill while a brusque wind blew wildly through Rogue's hair and chilled the air around them. Rogue let her arms glide with the current of the strong wind, the feeling giving her closest thing to flying while her legs remained firm on the saddle that kept her aground.

She had been away not fifteen or so minutes and already and Delmar Manor was clear out of her sight. Now, all she wanted to do was to let herself glide with the wind and leave her troubles behind her. However, there was one problem that she could not disconnect from her mind. _Lord Damien Black. _The young Lord's presence in Delmar Manor was indeed most questionable but it was his motives that seemed beyond comprehension. At the thought of him, Rogue's eyes opened and a frown of deep thought came across her face while the consistent question of _why_ came to mind. _Why was he here?_ There was no given reason as to why he was there, only that he had business with her grandfather, but what business was that? Rogue knew very well of her grandfather's alliances and peers and all consisted of stuck-up English rich-folk or businessmen. Not dashing Frenchmen who flirted anything that so much as walked and tried to rescue young ladies from their abusive guardians. No, Frenchmen were not in Lord Delmar's book of favourite people but neither was she. Rogue cringed at the muddled head ache that was starting to form and put a hand to her forehead and massaged her left temple. There were just so many questions and too many probable conclusions.

"Y' alright _chérie_?"

Rogue's eyes shot open as she just able jumped out of her saddle at the familiar voice. Turning her head she came to lock eyes with a smirking Lord Damien but when his eyes focused on her face, they drew instantly to the bruised cut under her left eye. His smirk disappeared and an expression of concern was drawn across his face. Yes, genuine concern.

When Remy had finally caught up to her, he had been careful to make his presence unknown until the right moment. He'd watched as Anna-Marie had stretched out her arms and seemed to glide on the strong winds as they blew their course but when she'd put a hand to her head, he grew a little concerned. Hence, he took the moment to make an entrance. He watched with slight amusement as she jolted in surprise but when she turned her head and his gaze focused on the bruised cut, he felt a pang of concern he hadn't ever felt for a woman arise in him. Hence, subconsciously, he moved a gloved hand from its grip on his own reigns and let it rest just under the side of her left cheek; barely brushing the tender, bruised flesh.

At the contact, Rogue flinched instantaneously but not from pain but from the surprise. His actions spoke too bold for comfort and in truth, Rogue found it frightening at first but then exhilarating the next. He was gentle but the feeling of gentleness was so alien to Rogue, she didn't really know how to react but flinch. Remy noticed this reaction and regretted it quickly but did not let go. Both horses had stopped side by side, allowing him the closeness he now had with the young woman and the chance to examine the damage done to her once flawless face.

"He did dis? Didn't he?"

Rogue remained silent but her eyes gave her away, they told him everything he needed to know. He cursed inwardly, his anger mounting towards Lord Delmar but most of all, himself. Setting the entire room on fire the night before might have proved a better distraction to stop such an abuse. Nonetheless, it would have done no good unless he had set the fire earlier than he had. Rogue took notice of the change in Lord Damien's eyes as they stared into her own. They reflected what emotions she guessed he was trying to hide but she managed to read them with ease. Was that anger intended for her grandfather? Or was that concern so genuinely for her well being? Letting out a wince-like sigh Rogue turned away from him, turning her gaze to Éowyn's black mane of hair as a distraction. Only when her gaze was detached from him did she begin to speak. She tried her best to hide her true emotions as she spoke.

"Ah- I don't know who you're referring to but it's just a scratch m' Lord. You _don't_ need to be so concerned-"

"I'll be de judge o' dat _chére._ Now would y' answer_ mon_ question _si vous plate_? Did y' grandfather hit y'?"

Rogue still refused to look at him, so, stepping out of his disguise for the moment, Remy reached out and grasped one of her gloved hands to get her attention. As soon as he made the contact, her head spun around to face him. As soon as she did this, he shifted his hand to the side of her face. He saw from the slight widening of her eyes that she had been surprised by his actions but she did not move as he held the side of her face in a tender hold. He kept her eyes locked in his gaze while his fingers stayed clear of the bruise and the cut while he gently brushed his thumb over her right cheek. Once he was certain that she would not push him away, he began to speak; his voice as gentle and reassuring as his touch.

"Y' don't have t' hide behind dat English accent _belle_."

"_You_ don't know my grandfather. He doesn't approve-"

"_Non_ I don't know y' grandfather. _Mais_ y' don't have t' hide y' real accent around _moi_ _mon chére. _I could _never_ hold dat against y'._"_

Rogue, who hadn't been able to breathe since he laid his hands on her, managed to let a few words escape her lips. Luckily, they were not as congested as her lung pipes were when she let them slip out.

"You won't tell my Grandfather?"

"Y' secret's safe wit' _moi chérie. _I promise y'." 

Rogue eyed him for a moment, uncertainty and disbelief in her eyes, but she quickly overcame it. Was this man for real? The sincerity and assurance in his eyes was all too good to be true, or to be trusted. Furrowing her brow, confusion and suspicion mirrored her face as she spoke once more, this time in her true accent.

"How did ya know ah was here?" 

Her words rang through Remy's ears like sweet, southern music. It rolled off her tongue beautifully, so beautifully he couldn't understand why anyone would want punish or restrict her from talking in such a melody **(Someone yell at me if I'm getting too fluffy mushy with my descriptions, I know it might get a lil' toooooo sweet and fluffy). **But then the name Lord Delmar rang through his mind and he understood just why _she_ restricted herself. He prayed that these next few weeks would pass quickly so that he may try and save her from any further damage.

Smirking and lying unashamedly, Remy replied her.

"I've been out here f' a while _mon chére_. Y' don't get too many people comin' out here in dis weather. Especially not _belle femmes _such as y' self."

Rogue felt her cheeks burn as she turned her gaze away. She was never really accustomed to such complements, especially from men. Sure, Scott or Alex would say she looked fantastic on her birthdays, but never had she been given such a simple complement. Then that ever so annoying "_Why?"_ question came up and she was questioning his motives again.

Meanwhile, Remy had noticed the hint of a blush across her face. It was a soft, rosy colour that highlighted her pale yet creamy complexion. He suddenly felt the urge to brush his finger over them again but thought better of it as he mentally scolded himself. _"Take it slow y' fool. Y' want her trust, not f' her t' run away from y'. Control y' self!" _He broke out of his thoughts when she spoke again.

"Have ya been t' England before?" 

Remy composed himself instantly as he replied.

"Few times M'lady. _Mais, _I do mean _few_."

Strangely enough, his reply produced a small smile from his _unknowing-fiancée. _He made a mental note to ensure that she did that as often as possible.

"Ah take it ya not a huge fan o' chilled summers an' bitter cold winters?"

Remy grinned in reply.

"_Non_. De cold be too much f' _moi_. He prefer de heat all year 'round."

She smiled again and Remy felt as if the cold air was heated around them. When she spoke however, it was like she was his eternal summer; a glorious Caribbean Summer day.

"Ah have t' agree. Ah've always hated the weather here."

"Y' a _Mississippi Southern Belle_ _non_?"

Rogue couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at the name but nonetheless she replied.

"Ah _was._ Some tahme ago ah guess." 

Remy nodded but questioned further.

"How long y' been in _Merry ol' England chére?"_

Rogue rode in silence for a moment, noticing for the first time that they had been riding at a slow pace side by side for a while now. Slowly, after the moment of silence ended, she turned to face him. There was hint of sadness in her eyes, a faded glimmer that seemed to speak to him but there were no word to describe the emotion in her eyes. Remy wanted to question it, ask specifics but he knew that that would utterly bring down this scheme, this mask he wore that he had fought so hard to keep up without falling in failure. Instead, he waited for her to answer. He watched as she broke her gaze from him for a moment, her eyes downcast, before looking ahead as she spoke. Her voice was gentle and nearly a whisper but he heard her perfectly.

"Ten years. After mah parents died, Lord Delmar was the only relative ah had left."

"Has dere been anyt'ing worse den _**dis**_ _chére_?"

Rogue flinched as one of his fingers brushed against the skin just below the bruised cut under her eye and quickly whipped her head around to face him. Her eyes locked dangerously with his own, her emerald eyes suddenly burning as she glared at him venomously.

"Excuse meh f' bein' so _audacious_ but ah'm afraid that ain't any o' ya concern _mah Lord."_

At her harsh words Remy couldn't stop the smirk from shining in his eyes though his mouth remained unmoved by the amusement he felt. She was more a _Southern Spit-fire_ than he had originally thought and frankly, he found it most appealing. _"Always did like femmes wit' spirit. An' Dieu, dis girl have more den enough."_ While his eyes glowed with amusement, his words spoke of apology.

"_Désolé mon chérie. _I did not mean to upset y'. Y' right, it's not my business. _Mais_, forgive a man for caring."

Again, her eyes widened in surprise but this time he had the amusing satisfaction of seeing her full lips part slightly in her astonishment. Rogue on the other hand could barely believe her ears, let alone remember how defensive she had been not moments before. The anger and defensiveness that had marred her features was forgotten as she tried to comprehend what he had just said. _"He…cares? Why would he possibly care? He doesn't know meh. How could he care for a complete stranger?" _More questions continued to rage in her mind but she quickly broke out of her thoughts and back into the present. She hadn't said anything for a few moments.

Slowly, she replied him, her voice gentle and near a whisper.

"Why would ya care about what happens t' meh?"

Remy found himself caught off guard. What could he say? He couldn't say the truth, it was too early, too risky to do so. She didn't know of their engagement yet either. So instead of the full truth, Remy settled for a modified version of the truth, hoping it might suffice for more complex answers until the right time came. Gently, Remy reached out and clasped her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze of reassurance as his gaze never left hers.

"I know what is_ right_ an' what is_ wrong_. An' what y' Grandfather does t' y' isn't _right. _I may not know much about what has happened t' y' over de last ten years Anna-Marie D'ancanto. _Mais, _y' eyes tell moi all I need t' know."

"_For de moment anyway."_ (thought)

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_**HA! FINALLY! I'm so so so SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry for the extremely long wait for this update. But I have to say, it was difficult to do so with this chapter. If there are any typos, don't worry I'll handle it later. It was very late at night when I updated this chapter so bear with me!! REVEIEW! Thanks guys!**_

_**-ultimategammy91**_


	7. Unfair Truths

Hey everyone

_**Hey everyone! Thanks so much for all the reviews, you know I love ya'll for that. Now, to the next chapter. Sorry it took forever to upload!**_

_**-Ultimategammy91**_

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_**Chapter Six – Unfair Truths**_

_**Several Hours later…**_

For possibly the hundredth time that _hour_, Rogue rolled over, her bed covers twisting around her body as she let a sigh of defeat escape her. Her eyes fluttered open, wide awake, only to glow slightly in the moon light from the un-covered window. She found solace in the moon light, its purity was soothing somewhat in such darkness but tonight it was different. For hours she had tossed and turned, sighed in frustration and finally, sighed in defeat as she realised that the battle for sleep was fruitless. 

"_Ya can'te stop thinkin' about him can ya?"_

A sigh of frustration escaped her lips as the thought popped into her mind. _Again._ After Lord Damien had appeared she had experienced emotions that she hadn't felt before. Though frustration and anger weren't strange emotions to her, the way he surfaced them from her was entirely new. He annoyed her but at the same time he made her feel warm inside all at once, like she was talking to _someone_ not another Lord Delmar or Aunt Carrie. It was like summer heat had cloaked her form and when he bid her goodbye, after walking her to the stables and kissing her hand, the cloak vanished and the cold of the evening returned. They had talked on somewhat vague subjects while they slowly made their way back to the house, the weather, how much they hated the cold, how he was _enjoying_ his stay at Delmar Manor and other very un-personal topics with him flirting in between. She mused later, after he had left, how she should have asked about how he knew her grandfather but she had been so overwhelmed by these new sets of emotions and his _closeness_ that she hadn't even thought of it. Now, here she lay, frustrated, confused and tireless. _All over_ _some Lord with a handsome face and a suave disposition no less!_

An aggravated sigh escaped her lips. It was, she decided, pointless in trying to get to sleep anymore. So, pulling off the layer of sheets and her heavy duvet off her body, Rogue pulled herself to a seated position. She hugged her legs to her chest as she set her chin on her knees, her eyes staring into the darkness of the room. It was then that a memory, a lost one, came to the front of her mind. A time when she found the dark frightening…

_-flash back- _

_**Twelve years previously…**_

_Anna-Marie couldn't stop the grin from spreading across her face as she tried to suppress her giggles. She was so proud of herself, so enthralled at her own genius that the glee was practically on the verge of bursting out of her in confetti of giggles and laughter. However, she kept her mouth shut best she could and bit down any chuckle that threatened to slip between her lips. A familiar voice was calling out her name, becoming louder with every call as the voice came closer to her. She believed it to be a shot of brilliance to hide away in the old well, where moss and other vine-like, overgrown plants had slowly grown and crawled all over the top of it like a mask over a hidden face. The well had been out of use well before she was born, hence, the most of the well was blocked and boarded up to stop people from using it. The plank boards that had been nailed about four feet down from the top were as slimy and mouldy looking as the well walls but Anna-Marie paid little attention to the grime. It was a fantastic hiding spot for a game of hide and seek. Anna-Marie remained silent as the voice and its owner passed by but when she was sure that he had gone, she gave a small sigh of relief but found herself sniggering not a moment later._

"_Cody is so easy to fool! Oh he will be sulky when ah come out!"_

_She giggled amusedly at the mental image of a sulking Cody Robbins. He was her best friend, her only friend really- besides Jiggah, her dog. But he was ever so easy to fool at times, bully even. Not that she did that, at least not seriously. She knew quite well that he couldn't deny her anything but she didn't abuse that notion._

_Anna-Marie waited for another five or so minutes, her legs pulled up so that she could rest her chin on her knees but no sooner had she done so, she felt a spine chilling 'crack' from beneath her._ _She looked down, curiosity itching at her mind, but before she could do anything more, she __**felt **__the second crack from beneath her and a then a definite 'snap' follow after before gravity took its entrance as she felt her body plummet down into the dark abyss of the well. A scream erupted from her lips but it didn't last long before she felt herself hit the bottom…_

_-End of flash back-_

Rogue broke out of the memory for a moment. She sighed disappointedly, remembering how careless and proud she had been that day. Sure, she had only been a child but that kind of carelessness had led to an incident that, if she had not been found, would have cost her more than a sprained ankle and a cold. 

_-Flash back continued-_

_Moments later, after the fall, Anna-Marie finally woke from her few seconds of lost consciousness. She blinked a few times, groaning groggily as her head spined on the spot for a couple of seconds while her heart drummed in her ears. Once the spinning stopped however, she took the time to notice her surroundings but there wasn't really much to see at all. It was pitch black, there wasn't a glimmer of light and she suspected, from the dampness of her dress and the soggy sort of stench in the air, that she was lying in something wet and slimy. _

_A shaky sob-sigh escaped the little girl's lips that echoed against the stone well walls but it was quickly followed by the sound of shuffling feet. Anna-Marie tried her best to stand up but let out a painful squeak as soon as she tried to put pressure on her left foot. Her little squeak of pain travelled up the stone walls as the pain in her ankle began to throb and worsen as she slumped back to the ground again. It was then, with her bottom of the wet ground as she clutched her ankle, that she felt the cold of panic pull at her mind. That's when the calling for help started…_

_-End of flash back-_

Rogue shuddered at the memory and pulled her legs in just a little closer as her night gown's flimsy collar exposed her left shoulder to the cold. She felt a horribly familiar chill run over her skin, like she could still feel the cold walls of the stone well close in on her again. She remembered yelling and crying for help for about two hours before her voice gave out and her tears began to fall. It took until dusk for her family to actually find her and she thanked God every day that she hadn't been left in that place longer. She had come out of the well, shivering and overwrought by the experience but was right as rain within a couple of days. Well, at least that's as much as her mother knew. Though she was only six years old when she had fallen down that well and it wasn't unheard of for a little girl of her age to cry or have nightmares over such a traumatic experience, she couldn't help but feel ashamed. She had been careless and cowardly. At least, that's what she believed, and even now, the memory managed to send horrible tremors and chills down her spine. She never wanted to be put in that situation again, where she couldn't do anything to save herself but fate, it seemed, was laughing at her and kicking her down.

Her grandfather was the stone walls of the well and she was stuck between his grasp with no hand to pull her out of it.

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_**The Next Morning…**_

The following morning, Rogue found herself walking down one of the many corridors with her eyes full of sleep and her mind in the grey mist of the morning. She was exhausted, grumpy and not in the least bit enthusiastic about meeting her grandfather before breakfast. The idea itself was already a dampener on her appetite. However, when Sarah had entered her room that morning and announced that her grandfather had sent for her to come to his bureau _before_ breakfast, she knew she had to go. She didn't need any further bruising. Hence, she made her way solemnly towards the great oak doors of Lord Delmar's office. Like a small, stray animal walking into a lion's den. When she came to the door, she took a deep breath and let it loose as she raised her head and straitened herself before knocking.

"Enter."

Was Lord Delmar's brusque reply before Rogue opened the door and stepped into the room. The bureau was a grand room of space and furnishings. Unlike the majority of the mansion that consisted of stone and dark wood banisters and walls, this room was mahogany based with green velvet here and there. The walls were hidden behind tall bookshelves with more than a couple of hundred books per case while the only thing that separated each bookcase there were French windows. In the centre of the room stood a grand desk and seated at the desk was none other than Lord Delmar. He sat hunched over, a pair of spectacles resting on his nose while his lips pursed in concentration. He did not acknowledge her presence at once. Instead, he kept his gaze on the record book before him and continued to skim his quill pen down the countless recordings of numbers and names. Rogue stood and waited patiently before the desk. She dared not move unless he spoke first.

"You can rest at ease granddaughter. I did not summon you to hound you with your indecencies as of late. However, if you should feel it necessary, you may apologize for you rudeness the previous night."

Rogue longed to clench her hand into an angry fist and master a hideous retort but instead, she held back her anger and complied with his _suggestion_. She really didn't want another hounding, not even her pride was worth that. 

"I apologize _wholeheartedly_ for my actions grandfather. Now, what was it you wished to see me about?"

Finally, Lord Delmar stopped. He leant back from his crouched position like an old lion lifting his head from the flesh of his latest kill before he set his gaze upon a new kind of prey. Rogue nearly gulped silently, but dared not swallow it. Instead, she waited for him to answer which came in the oddest of ways. Lord Delmar's mouth loosened from its tight purse and broke into…a smile. Rogue felt a shudder run over her skin, for this was not at all a good sign. A crocodile could smile just as sweetly. 

"Sit down Anna-Marie."

"_This doesn't look good…"_

Rogue complied and sat herself down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, flattening the creases of her navy blue gown in her lap nervously while her eyes remained locked on her grandfather. Whatever he had to tell her, it did not look promising. And it wasn't in the least.

"Do you know why Lord Black is here?"

"_So it isn't just 'business' that brings him here?"_

"No, I can't say I do."

Lord Delmar nodded but then the most peculiar, or should I say_ frightening_, thing occurred. His face broke into a smile, crooked at first but it grew quickly. A cold chuckle, though low and hollow, erupted from his lips as he stood from his chair. He began to circle Rogue as she stayed rooted to her chair, uncertain of whether or not to stay put and silent or ask what had provoked such a reaction from her grandfather. She waited, her eyes practically burning with questions into the back of her grandfather's head as he came to stand before the grand French window doors, his back turned. There was a few more moments of silence before he spoke up.

"A little over a month ago, I happened upon Lord Black in a tavern. He _challenged_ me in a game of cards and I accepted his challenge."

For some strange reason that Rogue didn't understand, her heart rate began to pick up at a faster pace. Nonetheless, she kept silent and watched as her grandfather continued to keep his back turned while he spoke.

"He also proposed a wager. Quite an ingenious one I will admit. I'm surprised I never conjured one like it sooner…"

Rogue felt her heart on the verge of bursting from anxiety. Every sense god gave her was telling her something was wrong. The calm, collectiveness her grandfather was showing towards her only increased her anxiety. She had known from a very early stage that her grandfather despised her and her parents but never had she been told why. She remembered asking her Aunt Carrie countless times about her parents only to be hushed or barked at for her _'inappropriate questioning.'_ Her guardians must have some knowledge of her parents, that she knew for sure, but what other secrets could Lord Delmar be hiding from her? Rogue had a horrible feeling she was about to find out the truth but this time she didn't know if she wanted to hear it.

"I suppose you would like to know the nature of this wager?"

Rogue, breaking from her thoughts, turned her gaze back to her grandfather only to meet his cold gaze. He had turned around, his face naturally cold and stern yet, in his eyes, there was a flash of smugness. Rogue could only nod and suppress a gulp at the look across his face as a small, crooked grin found its way to Lord Delmar's lips.

"Lord Black proposed that should I be the victor of the game, he would hand over his ship and a thousand gold pieces to me but if he should win..."

Rogue, as apprehensive as she was, held back all her anxieties while she spoke up. Her voice was barely more than a whisper as she let a few words slip.

"Should he win…?"

At her words, her feeble, anxious words, a proud smile broadened across Lord Delmar's face before he replied. His eyes gleaming with unspoke triumph and malevolence. 

"If he _did_ win. Which I assure you, _unfortunately,_ he did. I would give him your hand in marriage and your _entire_ dowry."

Rogue felt her entire world come crashing down on her. _Again._

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_**Well how was that?? I'm sorry I had to leave it there, and for taking so long to update, but it was a long chapter and I've been very busy and (recently) really bummed out and sick with the FLU. NEXT chapter there will be Remy and Rogue confrontation. BUUUUUUUT I'm really SORRY to say this, I won't be updating for a long while because I'm going overseas for about a month to Paris, Hong Kong and New York. And I can't bring my computer with me (lol it wouldn't fit in one suitcase let alone two) even though I would if I actually had a laptop and not this hunk of crap I have at my desk. ANYWAY,**_

_**REVIEW! TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!**_

_**Thanks to everyone who has been so patient with me with getting these updates posted. I know I take long periods of time between updates, but frankly, the real world takes over a lot of the time and I have to face it (just like everyone else). Please continue reading and try and excuse my habits of long waiting periods between updates. Cheers!**_

_**Until next time!**_

_**-UltimateGammy91 **_


	8. Duels, Lies and Truths

Hey everyone

_**Hey everyone! I'm alive! So sorry I haven't updated but really, I was stumped as to how to carry out this chapter. I wanted it to be the best it could be and I've been pretty busy with life and other stories. Thanks so much to those of you who kept an eye out for this story, I'll try to update more! **_

_**ENJOY!**_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_

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_**Chapter Seven – Duels, Lies and Truths**_

_**That Night…**_

Bottled frustration trembled through Rogue's body as she strode down the stone corridors. Her footsteps owned a painful reverberation. Stray locks of auburn fell about her face and trailed behind her in the air as she hurried down the stone floor. The floor stretched before her like an endless cat walk. Meanwhile, in the labyrinth that was now her mind, her thoughts were plagued with memories of the morning.

_-Flashback- _

_Rogue felt her heart fall and shatter like glass. Had she heard right? Words left her baffled and unable to verbalise her opinion of this news, but she was sure that her mask of passive emotion had broken the moment his words had left his lips. She felt her heart rage war against her rib cage while butterflies of the prickly kind began to race around at the bit of her stomach. "Marriage? To him?" She heard a soft chuckle, no, a cruel chuckle ring through the air. Forcing herself, she looked up at her grandfather. He gave her a mockery of a worried glance as he spoke._

"_My dear, are you well? You look awfully pale."_

_There was a glint in his eyes, a glint so repulsively full of amusement at the expense of her shock and disbelief that it sickened her to her soul. Finally, after finding words once more, she spoke. Her voice was barely even a whisper as the words slipped between her lips._

"_You- you wagered my hand in marriage to__** him**__?"_

_Lord Delmar gave a superior nod, his eyes smiling wickedly in his own triumph. He had sat himself down in the time Anna-Marie had taken to finally speak. And now, he was reaping in the profits of his well hatched scheme. He returned his attention back to his book work, pulling out another quill and ink bottle as he adjusted his spectacles and skimmed through notes and numbers while Rogue continued to gape and question him._

"_How- how could you do this? Why?"_

_Lord Delmar's quill tip was about a half inch away from the paper when her words slipped out. Hesitantly, he stopped in mid-air for a moment before setting the quill down again and turning to look at her. She was standing again, her strong will pulling her to her feet, but across her face was a display of utter disbelief. Quietly, Lord Delmar slipped off his spectacles and set them back on the desk as he rose from his seat. Once level with her gaze, he spoke in what he believed to be a calm tone of voice. _

"_You are…unhappy with this arrangement?"_

_Rogue dared not answer. Holding her tongue, she waited for him to yell but he only continued to torture her with this __**calm **__tone he had mustered. She watched, cautiously, as Lord Delmar walked around the desk and made his way towards her in a steady, slow pace. His eyes focused on her alone as he continued to speak._

"_For the past ten years I have put a roof over your head…"_

_He began to circle her as he spoke, like a shark circling prey as it brandished its teeth. However, instead of razor smiles, he attacked her with cold words._

"…_I have put clothes on your back and fed you out of my own hand…"_

_He came to stand behind her now, his hands clasping the back of her chair in a grip so tight that his finger tips grew white. Rogue felt the hair on the back of her neck stick up as tried her best to keep her heart from bursting from this anxiety of waiting for the first strike. _

"_And I have raised you as my own despite all the nuisances you have caused me."_

_Rogue felt her heart jolt but her body stay firm in place as he leant down to her level and began to venomously hiss into her ear. She hissed silently at the pain as his voice grew harsher with each word from his lips._

"_So tell me this, __**granddaughter,**__ have I not been lenient?"_

_Rogue felt herself shiver uncomfortably as she replied. Her voice cracking slightly as she let her answer slip between her lips._

"_Grandfather I have always appreciated all that you have done for me, but I cannot-"_

"_You cannot marry him? I find you __**can**__, and will, marry him Anna-Marie. You have little choice in the matter so I suggest that you start preparing yourself."_

_Rogue felt the smirk of triumph practically radiate off her grandfather's face as he moved away from her. Though she could not see him with her back turned, she could feel the distinctive pleasure he found in torturing her with this new truth. Rogue found herself trying not to glare with all the hatred she could muster as she tried to reply._

"_I barely know him-"_

"_You will have all the time in the world for such things once you are married."_

_Rogue gulped silently, her heart thumping against her chest and catching in her throat again. She was in a state of profound shock so severe she could barely believe, that, even though she knew her grandfather's disdain for her so thoroughly, that he would __**still **__persist in making her life so utterly miserable even though he would not be there to exercise his hatred any further. Rogue subconsciously let her gaze slip to the floor as a few words slipped out of her mouth._

"_So my happiness really means nothing to you, does it?"_

_She heard the distinctive clink of glass against glass and the light sloshing sound of whisky being poured she waited for him to reply._

"_Given the circumstances, your happiness is of little importance my dear."_

_-End of flash back- _

Rogue shakily heaved a deep breath of air as she tried not to let a scream of frustration escape her lips. She continued to storm down the corridor until she came to the stairs. With her head was held high and her cheeks were dry of all tears that threatened to fall, she practically ran down the stairway in a hurry of skipping steps and near slips. When she came to the final staircase, she was surprised to see a figure approaching- _Mr. Allerdyce was it?_- She continued down the stairs, not really caring if he acknowledged her or not. As fate would have it, to annoy her further, the orange haired young man turned to her. A rehearsed smile had tugged at his lips as he recognised her but fell when he met her eyes. She stopped a few steps past him when he spoke.

"M'lady? Are y' alright?"

She turned her head to face him. The look of concern he carried was genuine, she was sure of it. At that point however, she had no care for any legitimate show of concern for her well being.

"Ah'm jus' fahne thank ya- Mr Allerdyce is it?"

John gave a small smile, his concern remaining clear across his face, as he replied.

"_John_, m'lady. –If y' don't mind me sayin'. You don't look it."

Rogue's brow furrowed into a frown but she did not reply. Instead, she faced straight again and walked away. A silent sob racked through her body as her footsteps echoed through the dark hallway. She felt John's gaze burn into the back of her neck until she slipped through one of the arch ways to the West corridor.

When Rogue was out of sight, her footsteps fading, John turned quickly up the stairs and headed towards his Captain's quarters. There was a possibility that this marriage was going to be just as hard as they had anticipated.

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"Scott?"

Rogue gave a sigh of annoyance as she turned on her heal and marched in the other direction. She had travelled up and down the barn house, looking everywhere for her friend but he was no where to be seen nor heard. It was a Thursday evening, and as ritual had gone with them over the last couple of years, Scott and Alex usually met with her in the late afternoon to have sword play matches. Scott and Alex had been taught by a retired soldier that had lived a couple of miles away from the Delmar grounds. He had died some two winters past and so, since then, the brothers had taken to being her teachers and vice versa on some occasions. There had been no change in their plans since then and not once had her surrogate brothers forgotten a meeting. Until now that is.

Rogue had spent most of the morning and early afternoon confided to her room, biting back tears and refusing her maid to assist her or give any kind of comfort. It was only until the present hour that she had gathered herself up again. She dreaded their reaction to her _engagement_. She gave a sigh of annoyance, stopping in her tracks. She had been there for a good ten minutes and not even the horses had made a sound.

"_Where are those two…?"_

"G'evening _mon chére_."

Rogue froze for a full moment before her head spun, her hair flying loosely, to face the intruding figure. Though she had not comprehended her actions at the time, without a moment's hesitance, her fingers had grasped the hilt of her sword. She heard the blade hiss against the sheath as she drew it through the air, the heavy weight releasing from the strap around her waist. A half-moment later, the sound of steel against steel ricocheted through the air as his blade met her own. Rogue blinked, wide-eyed, as their gazes matched. His eyes, burning in their unusual flame, seemed to glow with amusement at her hostile reaction. A smirk played across his lips as he spoke again.

"M' take it, y' weren't expecting _moi_?"

A flush of red stained her cheeks but much to Remy's disappointment, or more, amusement, it wasn't out of embarrassment. Her gaze narrowed to a glare as frustration boiled within her. With a growl, she pushed with of all her might, sending him backwards with her blade. Immediately after, she took a defensive stance, taking a step back to give her blade air to breathe. With her glare and blade set, she watched as he straightened himself before her. He was dressed in dark greens and blacks, while his hair was tied back. A few strands of auburn fell into his eyes as he took a similar stance but raised his blade only just off the floor. He did not mean to fight her, as it was expected. Rogue growled her words angrily.

"What are ya doin' here?"

Remy only smirked harder, infuriating her all the more. Subconsciously, they began to circle each other with slow, steady steps. Rogue kept her sword high while he kept his close to the ground.

"Saw y' slip out o' de mansion. Y' looked…troubled."

Rogue rolled her eyes, giving an irritated huff before she replied.

"Ah wouldn't say _troubled."_

Remy hid away his awkwardness at her implication. He knew that Lord Delmar had informed Anna-Marie about their _agreement_ and that she hadn't taken it well, despite Lord Delmar's reassurances that she would do what was required of her. But from the slight redness around her emerald eyes and the way she glared at him so venomously, and not to mention the way she held a blade aimed at his stomach, he got a more accurate idea of what she thought of this match. There was doubt in his mind that she hated him beyond anyone at this moment. _"What a way t' start an engagement…"_ Though he knew the chances of her taking this engagement _adequately _were extremely unlikely, this was still not how he had envisioned their first day of being engaged. Actually, he felt a little at home around her. A sword in his hand, another aiming for him to do him bodily harm. That wasn't new at all. But this was no mere sword wielder. It was practically his wife. With a downhearted sigh, he returned her gaze with an earnest glance and replied.

"Y' Grandpére told y' about d' agreement?"

"Who said anythin' about it being an _agreement? _Ah've made no agreement what so ever with ya. That was mah _grandfather's _doing. _Not_ mine." 

Remy grimaced silently. He was on thin ice but nonetheless, he tried to justify himself as smoothly as possible. Without saying _too_ much. They continued to circle one another as he replied, gently.

"I know dat,_ mais, _y' mus' understand dat I meant y' no offence for dis-"

"No offence?!"

Her voice raised as her eyes widened for a half a second. Remy raised his blade just a little higher as her cheeks ran a flush with anger again. She replied when her gaze narrowed on him again.

"Ya came here under false pretences, angered mah grandfather so much that he felt the need t' take it out on meh-"

He winced at the ladder part but allowed her to continue. He owed her that at the very least, among other things.

"Ya tried t' get close t' meh even though ya _knew_ that was going to happen. _Correct meh_ if ah'm wrong, but ah think ya made every effort as far as offences against meh goes."

Remy came to stand still before her, his expression somewhat fallen as he watched her. Her glare never faulted for a moment and though any other man would be put off by her _unattractive_ behaviour, he was not. He was intrigued but guilt found its way into his mind. She was totally unbeknownst to the truth behind this whole engagement agreement, therefore had every right to be angry at him. They didn't know each other, she knew less than what he did about her.

"Y' right."

The words slipped through his mouth in a hushed, gentled tone. He watched as her gaze softened ever so slightly, the flush in her cheeks fading a little at his words as he continued.

"Y' have every right t' be mad at me. _Mais, _dat doesn't change much about dis situation."

Rogue huffed exasperatedly. She had expected as much. Her sword raised just a little as she replied.

"If ya expectin' meh t' just _accept_ this. Ya have another thing coming.'

Remy nodded, a smirk finding its way across his lips as he replied.

"I expect nothing less."

Rogue raised a suspicious brow as she replied.

"What _do_ ya expect?"

Remy tilted his head to the side slowly, his gaze never leaving her eyes. Rogue didn't know what had brought it on but one moment she was glaring at him with all the power she could muster and the next, she was lost in his glowing, red embers for eyes. They were hypnotic, irresistible and she found herself unable to blink let alone tear away her gaze. Remy, who was fully aware of this, given the fact her glare had almost disappeared completely, took the chance to step forward. He closed the gap between them, shifting the arm of her blade away as he came to stand but a few inches away from her. He was a good head or so taller than her, so he was forced to look down on her as he spoke. His voice was gentle, barely more than a whisper as his words slipped through him lips.

"I expect y' have no choice but t' do as y' grandfather instructed."

Rogue took a moment. Her heart had run away again as she stared up at him. Gently, she replied coldly.

"Ya set ya expectations too highly Lord Black. Ah'm not afraid of going against mah grandfather's wishes."

He didn't smirk but there was a hint of mocking tease in his voice as he replied.

"I don't doubt that. _Mais, _what could y' do? Run away? He'd find y' somehow."

"He'd be happy t' see meh leave."

"He'd follow y' now more den ever, now dat he has means of acquiring more _financial leverage _through _our_ marriage._"_

Her gaze narrowed again as she retorted.

"He doesn't get anythin' outta meh gettin' married. Ah've checked, he can't touch mah inheritance."

"No, he can't. _Mais, _dat's why I offered him _double_ of y' inheritance."

Rogue's eyes widened in disbelief and before she could stop herself, she raised her blade and lunged at him in a fit of anger. Remy swiftly stepped back and met her blade with his own. Before any other words could be exchanged, a fight ensured as blades crossed, whipped and turned as the two broke into the open space. It was like a dance, shifting back and forth with precision and stamina. Remy found himself bemused by her as she continued to hit harder while he dodged every move she made. He had to admit that she had skills but she was so full of anger, it made her more obvious than dangerous to him. He found himself smirking as he dodged and counteracted her blows, turning back and forth as she continued to lash out at him. Finally, their blades crossed and Remy took the moment to twist them together in an effort to disarm her. She held tight and eventually, they were locked in a cross of blades with their faces mere inches apart. Rogue glared at him but he only smirked in reply, showing no sign of discomfort or tire. Sweat beaded her brow as she hissed angrily.

"What could ya possibly get out of marryin' meh?"

Remy chuckled lightly as they continued to strain steel against each other.

"B'side having a _trés belle _woman for my wife, a number of t'ings."

Rogue growled angrily and with all her strength, she pushed him off her, turned, and made a round-about swing towards him. He dodged it easily, his blade hitting her own in his defence before they both pulled back and began to circle again. Rogue managed to hiss another question through gasps for air.

"You don't know anything about meh!"

Remy smirked.

"I t'ink we can handle dat once we be married_ non_?" 

Rogue's eyes widened for a moment but not a second late, a furious growl escaped her lips as she made a swift lunge with her sword. Before she could fully comprehend it, he had raised his own, twisted the blade around hers and with little effort, disarmed her. Her blade hit the floor some six feet away, more than out of her reach, while he took two strides towards her. He closed the gap completely as he reached out and grasped her shoulders in a firm hold. She flinched subconsciously, but her eyes remained open and wide with stilled wonder. Remy frowned at her reaction, feeling her body stiffen at his touch. Was she so used to violence that she would flinch at every man's touch? Gently, and ever so slowly, his hands ran down her arms to clasp her wrists, holding them between them. Their gaze remained locked and after several moments silence, Remy spoke up. His voice was gentle, no more than a whisper.

"I know y' don't trust me. But believe me when I say I will explain everything once we're married. I won't keep anything from y'…"

Gently, he released one of her wrists and raised his hand towards her cheek. He traced the side of her face. He felt the heat of her flushed cheeks as she stared up at him, wide eyed. Rogue didn't know what to do. She couldn't move whether she wanted to or not, but the feeling of his rough hands felt oddly gentle against her skin, reassuring almost. At his touch, she realised the vigorous thudding against her rib cage and in her throat was her own heart beat. It grew wilder as he continued to hold her gaze. He opened his lips slightly, meaning to speak but held back a moment. Rogue furrowed her brow at him. His eyes had flickered slightly, as if hesitating for a moment. However when he did talk, removing his hand from her face, the hesitance disappeared. The façade returned.

"Y' Tante will be wonderin' where y' are. Y' should go back t' de house."

He watched her expression turn from confusion to anger with the narrowing of her gaze. With another moment, she had pulled herself out of his hold and stalked off at a quick pace. He turned and watched as she walked out, neglecting her sword, and continued to when she was out of sight. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, before he whispered to himself.

"Soon, y'll understand evert'ing…"

He took a few moments before following her trail, back to the house.

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_**That didn't go as well as I planned. –sigh- I'm not happy with this update but it is an update nonetheless. REVIEW please! Tell me if I'm barking mad or right to be dissatisfied with this chapter!**_

_**-UltimateGammy91 **_


	9. Engagements

Hey everyone, thanks for not giving up on this story

_**Hey everyone, thanks for not giving up on this story. I really appreciate it!**_

_**IMPORTANT NOTICE:**__** I'm sort of dry on fresh ideas (not that it's much of a worry, I have some major ideas that will come up later on) but I would like to know what you would like to see in this story. I'm open to suggestions so long as they're, ya know, within reason (nothing terribly gross or, well, you get the picture). Please tell me in a review! Thanks!**_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_

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**Chapter Eight – Engagements **

_**Two days later…**_

"Sarah! Sarah you fool, bring me that face powder this instant! Hurry! Do you think we have time to squander?!"

Rogue winced silently as Aunt Carrie's shrill voice exploded not two inches away from her ear. She watched as Sarah, flush faced, hurried from the room as quick as her feet could carry her. Aunt Carrie gave an irritated huff, muttering angrily under her breath about _"incompetent servants"_ while she continued to tighten and pull the ribbons of Rogue's corset. Rogue winced slightly with each firm pull as her lungs throbbed for air. She kept silent, knowing that Aunt Carrie would begin another lecture about how it was _expected_ of her to wear corsets. Now that she was about to be _married_ soon, Rogue was sure that her Aunt would add that detail to the usual lecture. Ever since Aunt Carrie had been informed of the engagement, not two days before, she had been over the moon and back. Not only did she have the _pleasure_ of organising everything for the wedding, she was but a month away from being rid of her _nuance _of a niece.

"You better act properly tonight, girl. Or so help me, you'll be severely punished."

"Yes Aunt."

Rogue rolled her eyes. Her aunt hadn't changed her way of _dealing_ with her since the very day she had arrived. Like a child, she began to scold her as she continued to strap her corset angrily with her nimble fingers.

"Your fiancée will not appreciate you making a fool of yourself, so remain silent unless spoken to. And when you do speak, do _not_ start with any of that Southern rattle! And above all, do _not_ tell anyone of the _details_ of this marriage. Though I find it quite an agreeable match, even for you, you will act accordingly. Like you're _happy_ with this arrangement. Do I make myself clear, Anna-Marie?"

Rogue winced as the woman made a harsh tug at the ribbons to emphasise her point. She felt irritation pull at her at the mentioning of her _fiancée. _Since the night in the stable barn, Lord Damien had not bothered her very much. In fact, she was sure that he had been trying to give her _space._ Though she dashed the very thought, she was thankful they hadn't had to deal with each other. Now, however, there was no way they could avoid each other. Not when their engagement party was in action.

"Anna-Marie, did you hear me?"

"I understand, Aunt."

Aunt Carrie nodded, her lips still pursed in annoyance. After a few moments silence, she finished her work and moved away from Anna-Marie. Rogue let go of the bed post and flattened her front to try and ease some air into her lungs again. She sighed uncomfortably as her rib cage ached, horribly. Aunt Carrie was a murderous woman when it came to dressing her up for occasions, and this was such an occasion; her engagement party to be precise. Rogue wasn't left long to her resentfulness to the idea as Aunt Carrie was stomping towards her with _her_ gown in her arms. Rogue grimaced inwardly at the sight of it. It was a hideous colour, as per usual to Aunt Carrie's traditions of fashion, an off, yellow colour assaulted with ribbons, lace and silk that clashed horribly together in a mess of fabrics. Rogue felt her stomach turn. Aunt Carrie however, just rolled her eyes and began to un-do the back of the dress. Irritably, she grumbled.

"Do not give me that look young lady, this dress was expensive and you should be grateful your Grandfather was willing to _let_ me buy it in the first place- Now put it on, we don't have all night."

Rogue had barely lifted a reluctant hand to take the dress when the door to her room was flung open. Sarah rushed into the room carrying a large, thick box in her arms. Rogue and Aunt Carrie stared at her with bemusement as she closed the door behind her and made her way into the bedchamber of the room. As she laid it out on the bed, she explained herself.

"Lord Black's servant, Mister Allerdyce, he told me to give this to Miss Anna-Marie."

As she spoke, she began to unwrap the thick, silver ribbons that held the box closed. Within seconds, Aunt Carrie had pushed Sarah aside and began to tear the ribbons off with her vicious fingers and tore the lid off. Rogue stood a few steps away, her feet rooted to the floor. When the lid came free, a surprised gasp escaped her lips. Aunt Carrie pulled the gown out, gently, so to study it herself. It was magnificent, a deep navy colour with short, satin sleaves and not so much a bow or ribbon in sight. A delicate, black chiffon fabric wrapped itself around the satin of the dress while another piece wrapped itself around the neck of the dress. It was perfect and not even Aunt Carrie could deny that, though she tried with all her might.

"Where did this come from, Sarah?"

Sarah blushed lightly as she replied, her eyes smiling towards Anna-Marie as she spoke.

"He told me, madam, to tell you that Lord Black hoped that Miss Anna-Marie would like to wear this tonight. He wanted their clothes to match."

Rogue felt her face burn in embarrassment but had the great satisfaction of seeing her Aunt's mouth drop open in shock. Aunt Carrie gaped for a moment, her mouth opening and closing serval times as she found it difficult to find her words. When she did not reply, Sarah took a hold of the gown, gently, and asked as Aunt Carrie continued to hold it.

"Should I help Miss Anna-Marie put it on, madam?"

Aunt Carrie's face turned cold and stern again as she closed her mouth. She eyed the dress a moment before turning to Sarah. She nodded, reluctantly, and let go of the dress for Sarah to take. With that, she turned around to face Anna-Marie. Rogue kept her face calm and as unamused as possible while Aunt Carrie spoke. Her voice was lower than her usual shrilling tone that Rogue had to concentrate to hear her properly.

"Make yourself ready, I think Sarah can handle you. I will be back here at six o'clock sharp. Do not be late."

With that said, she strode out of the room and closed the door sharply behind her. When her footsteps diminished, Sarah and Rogue turned to each other and burst into fits of laughter. Sarah clutched the dress to her front as she bent over in hysterics, her face a tomato red-colour. Rogue rest her hands on her hips as her body trembled with laughter. It had been an age since she had laughed so hard or since she had seen he aunt in such an _uncomfortable _disposition. Finally, when their laughter died down, Sarah straightened herself and raised the dress before Rogue. A reassuring smile spread across her face as she spoke.

"Shall I help you get dressed, Rogue?"

Rogue eyed the gown, he brow creased into a slight frown. She loved the dress, without a doubt she knew she did but it was from _him._ He wasn't just giving it to her so they could match. He was trying to _buy_ her trust.

"It wouldn't hurt to wear it. Maybe he's just being kind."

Rogue let a huff of disbelief escape her but she couldn't stop herself from lightly fingering the dress. It was soft to the touch, like feathers under her skin. She wanted to wear it but her pride held her back. She removed her hand, as if stung. Sarah reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, causing Rogue to turn and look at her again. She smiled at her reassuringly as she replied softly.

"Thing wills work out, Rogue. I know they will. Maybe- if I may say so, maybe this is a chance for you? You can_ leave_ this place once you're married."

Rogue bit down on her lower lip. The thought hadn't really crossed her mind. She had been so angry these past few days, she'd barely thought beyond any possibility that this was a good thing. That it may be her only escape out of here. What would happen after she and Lord Black were married though? Where would he take them? They barely knew each other and she didn't even know if she could trust him. He hadn't even proposed properly. Was that any way for a marriage to begin?

Rogue let out a sigh of irritation as these thoughts muddled themselves at the front of her mind. She didn't know what to think anymore. However, when she felt Sarah's reassuring hand squeeze her shoulder, she had to break out of her thoughts. She looked up at Sarah, her comforting smile easing her slightly as her old friend spoke.

"Besides, look at what your Aunt wanted to make you wear! You cannot think of wearing that now that you have _this._"

Rogue returned her friend's smile feebly but said nothing. So Sarah continued, trying her best to sound smooth as she continued to convince Rogue.

"Would it be so terrible if you wore this?"

She lifted the dress a little higher, shaking it gently. The fabric swayed gracefully before her. It was a temptation Rogue couldn't resist and they both knew it. So, with a nod, Rogue gave her answer.

"Help me?"

Sarah smiled and nodded obligingly.

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_**Several hours later…**_

Rogue couldn't help but let a content, feeble smile spread across her face. The young woman that stared back at her from her vanity mirror was a porcelain doll, adorn in sea of navy blue and silver. Sarah had made every effort to make her look a picture of perfection, not for the guests and most certainly not for her fiancée but for _her_. For the girl that never had any happiness to speak of. Her face was powdered white, not chalk white, but enough to give her skin a healthy glow and to hide the old cut under her left eye. Thankfully, the bruising had faded to a yellowish colour that was easily hidden behind face powder so at least from a respectable distance it would not be seen at all. Curiously however, the face powder had been discovered in the gift box Lord Black had sent the dress in. With that had been a pair of pearl-white opera gloves and a pair of pearl earrings to match. Sarah hadn't wasted a moment before slipping the pearls on Rogue's ears and Rogue hadn't complained. She had gaped at first, but no retort escaped her lips. When her dress was fastened, Rogue had been surprised to find that it had fitted her like a glove. The satin was cool on her skin at first but as the time passed her, she found it warmed with her skin. The gloves left but an inch of skin between her sleaves and the hem of the gloves while the neckline hugged her shoulders, exposing her upper torso more than any dress she had worn ever had before.

Rogue blushed at the thought. She felt half-naked when really it was not all that much skin to expose. When Sarah had pinned back her hair with silver combs, a strings of pearls and swept back her white streaks and pinned them at the top of her head with the rest of her auburn curls, she felt that exposure raise a blush through her cheek. Her neck became bare to the open air. Sarah had told her it was _tasteful_ to do so, that it made her look elegant and _just as she should. _Rogue hadn't said anything but she had refused to believe it. At least, she had until she looked in the mirror for the first time.

Suddenly, Sarah's bright blue eyes caught her attention. Staring at her through the mirror with a wide smile plastered across her freckled face. Rogue turned her gaze to her maid as she began to check her hair. She adjusted the combs and tucked back some of the loose strands that refused to stay in place. When their eyes met again, Sarah giggled and spoke to her, facing the mirror.

"You look stunning, Rogue. You should smile, there's reason to."

Rogue let a soft chuckle shake through her shoulders but she didn't smile, not fully at least. Her eyes became downcast as she raised a gloved hand to fiddle with the handle of her brush. Was there really a reason to smile? Knowing that she was marrying a complete stranger? A sigh followed the demise of her chuckle as she replied desolately.

"Is there, Sarah?"

Sarah stopped fiddling with Rogue's hair instantaneously. She turned her gaze back to the lady in the mirror and let a sad sigh escape her lips. She gave a pitied smile, both feeble and knowing all at once as she replied.

"Just try to enjoy tonight, you'll be the belle of the ball you know."

Rogue gave a low sigh of aggravation. She dreaded the thought of being in the spot light of attention. Sarah gave a small chuckle of amusement but not a moment later, she wrapped her arms gently around her friend's shoulders and rest her head against Rogue's. She stared into their reflection as she spoke.

"There are worse things. Just keep telling yourself that when it gets tough."

Rogue nodded and offered a half smile. She held Sarah's hand and thanked her before getting up and making her way to the door where Aunt Carrie was waiting.

"_There are worse thing."_

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"_There __**are**__ worse things…"_

The words of console that Sarah had given her turned sour in her mind as they became factual. There were worse things than being the centre of attention and that was being _thrown_ into the spot light and made a fool by her grandfather. When Aunt Carrie had seen her, seen what she was wearing, her eyes had just about popped out of their sockets before a scowl marred her face not a moment later. She had said nothing, just led the way towards the staircase as the sound of chatter and laughter arose from the halls below. Around fifty or so men and women of high English society had turned up, most of which, Rogue knew neither by face or name. They congratulated her, after congratulating her fiancée of course, but at the slightest enquiry to their _courtship,_ her Grandfather would humiliate her. He told them countless tales of lies. She had been a burden long enough and he needed to wash his hands of her somehow. She had been old enough to marry since she was sixteen. Her prospects could be no higher than what had been offered by Lord Black. Rogue was not unaccustomed to such cruelty from him. Her grandfather lacked any kind of concern for agreeable social boundaries on _personal _matters.

Nearly every guest eyed her haughtily and turned their noses slightly as if a horrid stench had blown from her direction. Such excuses were usually facades for more terrible circumstances. Rogue had heard of such circumstances. Patched up marriages between women that had given themselves to men before marital vows were even considered was not unknown to her. Or marriages made to hide away premarital pregnancies before a child could be dubbed a bastard. Did they truly think that? Did they think her a whore? A worst case scenario where marriage was the only option open for her? Rogue normally didn't care for how people thought of her but to be so unjustly judged by people she did not know? She couldn't believe it.

When supper was announced, she was led away by her grandfather and was placed next to Lord Black. He offered a kind smile in the place of words and she returned it feebly before turning her gaze away. They hadn't spoken a word all night and though Rogue was somewhat grateful for it, she couldn't help but feel a little downhearted for some reason. Not that she admitted it of course. However, that was not to last. His voice caused her to turn her gaze to him again.

"Y' look _trés belle_ tonight _chérie_. I am glad t' see y' approved of de gown. It suits y' well."

Rogue gave a small smile that vanished as soon as it appeared across her face. A blush scorched her cheeks as lowered her gaze to her plate. A few moments later, a servant came to her side and filled her glass with wine. She took the glass, taking a long sip as she tried to ignore his continuous stare. Though she couldn't see him, she _knew_ he was smirking and was more than likely amused by her behaviour towards him. She took a second sip, allowing as much of the bitter-sweet liquid to slide down her throat as possible. However, this only caused a low chuckle to escape her _fiancée's_ lips. She turned her gaze to look at him only to find he was still grinning at her with certain amusement in his unusual eyes. She frowned at him as she retorted in a low whisper of a hiss.

"What, my Lord, is so funny?"

Remy chuckled again as he reached out and took a hold of his own wine glass. He took a quick sip. His gaze never left hers, not even while he placed the glass back on the table. Rogue raised a brow at him as he finally answered.

"Not'ing. Has anyone ever told y', y' look _belle_ when y' be irritated?"

Rogue frowned and turned her gaze away. A tailored servant appeared at each guest's side and placed the first course on their plates as Remy continued to smirk at his fiancée. He couldn't help the amusement he felt as her cheeks turned pink. Her brown furrowed in what he would deem attractively as she focused her gaze on her plate and avoided his eyes. He realised, after a few moments that she was unlikely to start any more conversation while eating, so he turned his attention back to his own plate. He was also fully aware of the watchful gaze of his soon to be Aunt-in-law and Grandfather-in-law from down the grand table. What he wouldn't give to make them uncomfortable. At the thought, a sly smirk spread across his face. He turned his gaze back to Anna-Marie and ever so discreetly, he leant towards her and stopped but an inch away from her left ear. Remy smirked as he felt her shift uncomfortably at the closeness before he whispered ever so huskily.

"Would y' take a walk wit' me after supper is finished?"

Rogue froze but her heart continued to beat at a vast pace. She felt heat raise through her cheeks again as she leant away slightly in discomposure. However, not willing to let him think he intimidated her so, she turned her head and slowly matched his gaze. She regretted it immediately of course. His eyes were glowing again, so hopeful and blazing with certainty that she found herself lost in them, drowning in them. Gently, as she tried her best to keep her composure together, she nodded and turned away again. She felt his smirk again as she tore away her gaze.

Remy on the other hand, though pleased with her answer, turned his gaze towards the Delmars. Lord Delmar's cold gaze narrowed but he gave an inaudible grunt and turned away his gaze. His daughter tried her best to hide a disapproving glance his way. He smirked. He felt a twinge of satisfaction pull at him at their discomfort.

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Rogue let out a sigh of relief as she stepped into the dark of the hallway. The cold seemed like a comfort to her now, a means of hiding away as well as cooling down from the heat that perspired from the ball room. After supper she had been whisked away by several ladies her own age and had been forced to withstand their constant chatter. They asked her about her engagement above all things. One had asked if they were secret lovers and that her grandfather had discovered them and forced him to marry her. Another asked if she was carrying a child and had the audacious nerve to rest a hand over her abdomen in front of all of the ladies and not to mention all and everyone who was watching her. When they had finally allowed her to leave, on the promise of returning later to give _details_, she had carefully slipped out of the room through a secret passage that led her to her freedom.

She fell back against the cold, stone wall some couple of steps away from the ball room. The commotion of laughter and chatter echoed lightly off the walls like the voices of spirits and parties past. Rogue closed her eyes lightly for a moment and took a deep breath as the cold stone cooled her bare shoulders. That is, until a thought came to mind. The only two people she had wanted to be there had not been allowed to the engagement party. So, opening her eyes, she began to make her way to the servant's quarters to pay a much needed visit.

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The servant's quarters were below the first level of the mansion. A spiral of stone stairs connected it to the mansion and was lit by several candles on odd stone bricks that stuck out of the walls. She descended them quickly, her shoes echoing against the walls as they beat the steps. However, her footsteps were toned out as the echo of familiar voices broke out through the dimly lit corridor. Rogue smiled slightly, her troubled heart warming slightly at the sound of her friends' laughter and chatter. She walked at a steady pace down the narrow corridor, passing several doors before coming to the final door. Light slivered from under the door as she reached out and nocked lightly.

There was silence for a moment then muffled voices before the door was pulled open. Light cast her back in shadows as it touched her front and she smiled as Scott came into view before her. A rather bemused expression was spread across his face before he was able to make coherent talk.

"Ro-Rogue? What, what are you doing here? Are you alright?"

Rogue rolled her eyes. It was a typical Scott question. But she ignored the question and replied with a bright smile.

"Came t' see if ya'll were havin' any fun. Can ah come in?"

Scott opened his mouth to speak but it opened and closed in silence. Finally, he gave her a stern look, like a father would a disobedient child, but stood back to let her pass through. As she entered the room, he followed and closed the door behind him. His voice was full of warning and slight worry as he spoke up.

"You should be up there entertaining your guests."

Rogue chuckled, shaking her head in light dismissal as she turned to face the two other people in the room. Sarah stared at Rogue wide-eyed for a moment before breaking off into a small giggle as Rogue came and gave her a peck on the cheek before sitting on the bed beside her. Across from them, laid out with his hands behind his head across the other single bed was Alexander Summers. He didn't bother to get up, knowing that Rogue would not take offence to his lack of courtesy, but turned his head and gave a warm smile her way with a teasing wink. He was completely opposite to his brother, being fair-haired and blue eyed while Scott was dark and brown eyed. He was only a few years younger than Scott but he looked older than he should. He was tall, lean and had an optimistic nature, while loving Rogue like a younger sister. He gave a smirk of tease as he spoke up.

"Couldn't stand the high socialites any more huh?"

Rogue smiled, nodding as she added silently. _"Not to mention a certain fiancée of mine…"_

"How is your _fiancée_?"

Rogue wondered if Scott was a mind reader as he started at her expectantly. He stood at wall, at the end of Alex's bed, with his arms crossed stiffly over his chest. His brow was furrowed slightly in discontent. He hadn't reacted well to the news that Anna-Marie was to be '_married off to some French stranger out to find his fortune.' _Rogue gave a small shrug as she slouched against the wall that the bed was pushed up against. She fiddled with the chiffon fabric of her dress as she began to muse in a cynical tone.

"He's…polite enough. Obnoxious enough, thinks flattery will take him places…"

Scott frowned a little harder while Alex just rolled his eyes at his brother's reaction. Sarah on the other hand, reached out and rest a hand against Rogue's shoulder in comfort and offered a gentle smile. Rogue returned it but said nothing. After a short moment of silence, Alex pulled himself to a seated position, resting his elbows on his knees as he faced Rogue. A impish grin spread across his youthful features as he spoke.

"So, was your grandfather_ pleased_ when he saw you dressed like _that_? Bet he must've had himself a stroke seeing you look so pretty."

Rogue rolled her eyes and if he had been within range, she would've punched him for his tease. Sarah chuckled suddenly, and answered Alex's question with a knowing grin across her face.

"You should've seen the _Spinster Matron_ when I opened the box. I do not think I've ever seen that woman so, appalled!"

Alex sniggered while Scott, though he tried to hide it, gave a crooked grin at the thought. Rogue found herself sniggering slightly too before she replied.

"Ah have t' admit it. That was _priceless _seein' her so outta composure lahke that. Ah think she might have fainted if her pride had let her."

Alex gave another impish grin as he concurred agreeably.

"That ol' bat wouldn't let her pride down. I mean, it's all she has."

Rogue chuckled but scolded teasingly.

"Don't say such things, she might hear ya. Bein' a bat an' all. Ah believe they have impeccable hearing." 

Alex gave a hearty 'Ha!' before he replied with an irritated sigh.

"That woman is vile. Probably has ears _and _eyes in every room. Her, and that snitch Roy of course." 

Rogue gave a hmm of agreement as their usual conversation drew itself out without restraint. Roy didn't live in the servants' quarters. He lived in one of the small guest rooms up in the West wing and refused to _'stoop to their level'_ as he had most kindly put it. This was the only place they could be honest to their own words without restraint and Rogue felt at ease almost instantaneously. She would trade all the entire royal family in favour of having her _true_ friends come to her engagement party. A pang of guilt pulled at her at the thought. So, to ease her conscience a little, she turned to them with anxious eyes and whispered.

"Ah wish ya'll could have been up there with meh."

Alex, Scott and Sarah gave her a mix of feeble smiles and anxious glances. After a moment, Sarah squeezed her hand and Alex replied for them, giving her a feeble smile as he spoke up.

"I would have liked to see you give that Lord Black a piece of your mind. Would have been the highlight of the night."

Rogue snorted lightly and shook her head. Sarah and Scott mimicked identical smiles. However, their little discussion was interrupted by the sound of a nock from the door. Each head turned quickly towards the door in union. Scott made his way towards the door, his steps silent as he came to stand before it. After a moment, he answered the nock.

"Who goes there?"

A muffled yet familiar voice gave an answer.

"It's John, Lord Black's servant. I come on my master's requests."

Scott turned his gaze back to meet Rogue's. Rogue stared wide eyed and still for a moment before slowly standing again. How had Lord Black known where she had gone? A few more questions rang through her mind as she moved towards the door. She gave a reassuring nod towards Scott before he opened the door. John smiled at them politely as he stood in the doorway. He gave a nod of a bow as he spoke.

"G'evening Miss, Mister Summers. I'm sorry t' intrude, but, orders are orders."

Rogue nodded, offering a polite smile while Scott gave a stiff nod.

"Ya Master wanted ya t' fetch meh?"

John nodded as he replied, an ever present grin across his face.

"Yes he did, Miss. He told me to remind you that you promised to take a walk with him. He's waiting out in the gardens now." 

Rogue heard Alex Summers snigger from within the room and Sarah's quick hush. She gave an inward sigh of defeat and nodded before following John. She turned to give Scott a last smile of goodbye before leaving.

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_**I think I'll leave it there. This is such a huge chapter already! Don't hate me! I'll post the next part VERY soon! I promise you!**_

_**REVIEW!**_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_


	10. Make the Best of Things

_**Hey! Sorry about the slight wait but things came up. Yeah that's my excuse. Lol. Enjoy the update!**_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_

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**Chapter Nine – Make the Best of Things**

Rogue followed John reluctantly up the stairway from the servant's quarters, grateful for the silence as she fumed angrily inside. She wondered if Lord Black was keeping tabs on her whereabouts, for this was probably the third time he had known _precisely _where she had been. Never mind his suave excuses- he _was_ keeping tabs on her! A frown drew itself across her face as she silently cursed herself. She should have kept her eyes opened wider. How could she not have realised it until now? Was this constant _watching _of her actions and whereabouts going to continue once they were married? Rogue dreaded the thought. She would never be at peace again, not even when it was clear beyond clear that she was alone.

John, who stepped in time with her footsteps at her side, turned his gaze towards her but kept his face face-forward. He took note of the frown almost immediately. It was most obvious that she was far less than pleased than being in this situation. Who could be happy in such an arrangement? She barely understood the _truth_ behind this match. John felt a twinge of guilt as he continued to lead her back to her _fiancée._ However, not a moment after the pang had occurred, an epiphany brightened his eyes and spread a small smirk across his lips. He turned casually to meet Anna-Marie's gaze.

"We haven't been properly introduced- I'm Saint John Allerdyce, ma'am. At y' service."

Rogue raised a brow at John and jolted slightly at his sudden introduction. She recovered coolly, and shook the hand he offered her politely as she gave a meek nod. A hint of tease erupted from her voice as she replied.

"Are ya really a Saint, _St. John?"_

John grinned in the most _unsaintly _way possible. Like an impish devil with flaming red hair and forest green eyes. He gave a low chuckle and waved his hand as he denied her _accusation._

"Me? A Saint? Ha! _Hardly_. Though, mind you, I know what's right an' wrong sure enough. That you can be sure of ma'am."

Rogue found her anger subsiding as John's pleasantly honest responses eased her irritation. However, despite his gentility and light humour, she remained a little frigid as she smirked and replied.

"An' ah suppose ya think its _right_ that ya have t' follow meh around for ya master?"

John's smile faded as they continued to walk, the echoing of the party chatter becoming louder as they made their way. John was silent for a moment, turning his gaze away from her to hide his slightly guilty expression. He bit it back and turned his head to reply some memorised excuse but one look into her blazing emerald eyes left him flabbergasted without words. He opened his mouth to speak several times but on the third time, he shut it and gave a silent sigh of defeat. Would it honestly endanger the plan to tell her just a _little_ section of the truth? After all, weren't they trying to gain her trust rather than not have it at all? Finally, once his mind was made up, John gave an audible sigh and gave an expression that put him at fault as he spoke.

"Afraid so, ma'am. But like I said, orders are orders. But believe me, my master means no harm on me keepin' an eye on you. He just wants to know you're safe."

Rogue lightly snorted in disbelief. John smiled feebly as he tried to ease the opinions the woman clearly had for his master. His voice grew gentle as he continued to speak.

"Though I might not be able t' change y' opinion o' m' master. From the years I've known 'im, I know him t' be a good man. Once y' get t' know him."

Rogue's tongue was dipped in sarcasm as she replied coldly, her gaze set on the floor as they continued to walk.

"Ah'm sure he is Mister Allerdyce-"

"John- ma'am, if y' like."

"Right, _John._ Well, ah'm sure he's a good man but there is nothin' _good_ about this _situation_."

John shrugged as he turned to reply.

"It might not be an…_ideal_ situation. But, if y' don't mind me sayin' ma'am-"

"Rogue."

John furrowed his brow at her in bemusement so Rogue smiled and replied gently. Her frigidness was fading again as she replied.

"It's only fair if ah call ya John, ya call meh Rogue. Everyone but mah Aunt an' Grandfather do."

John smiled and nodded before he continued. They had passed the doors to the ball room now and continued on in the dimly lit hallways as they made slow tracks towards the doors the led to the gardens.

"Anyway, If y' don't mind me sayin', it's not completely bad once y' look at it a lil' deeper."

Rogue raised a perceptive brow at him so he continued.

"I mean, look at it this way, once y' marry m' Master, y' free o' your _merry ol' family_ an' if y' want, y' don't have t' see 'em again either."

Rogue rolled her eyes. It seemed like everyone had the same scheme locked in their minds about the _good_ part of her situation. Did no one but herself see this as a bad thing? She knew it wasn't uncommon for arranged marriages to happen in this day and age but many of them were also wrecked by pain and misfortune. Wives were forced to produce heirs if they married a man of noble birth and if they could not, they were cast away while her husband took his interests else where. What did Lord Black expect, she wondered. Did he expect to impregnate her with his brood until she withered away with age? And what if she couldn't produce children? What happened then? Though she couldn't care less of what he decided to do outside of _their_ marriage, a broken marriage was a broken marriage in the eyes of the public. There would be no mercy for her. Rogue offered her excuse, that most arranged marriages ended with misfortune, but excluded her thoughts on when and _if_ she and Lord Black had children. She did _not_ need John to retell such thoughts to his master as she was sure he would once she was out of sight. John merely shook his head sincerely and replied.

"Lord Black is an honourable man, Rogue. If it didn't work out, there's no doubt in my mind he'd do everything in his power to make it right."

Rogue gave a slightly aggravated sigh as she raised her hands to emphasise her annoyance, pointing at the air irritably.

"_Ugh…_does no one see how badly matched this engagement is? Ah hardly know him, John! An' he barely knows meh!"

John nodded feebly but offered an explanation nonetheless.

"Like you said b'fer, arranged marriages are like that. An' pardon my sayin' this, but you're pretty lucky, Sheila. Some folks don't see each other until the _day_ o' their marriage. At least y' have a lil' time t' get t' know each other."

Rogue huffed irritably. The exhale of air caused the tendrils of loose hair to blow away from her face. She crossed her arms defiantly, causing John to chuckle lightly with amusement. She narrowed her gaze at him as she replied.

"How long have ya served under Lord Black?"

John gave a thoughtful expression, hiding away the slight panic he felt at the question. It was totally innocent and easy to answer without giving too much away but he hadn't expected it. Without a moment's hesitance, he replied.

"Been his attendant since I was fifteen. His Pa hired me off the docks of London he did. Been with Lord Black's family ever since an' I don't regret a minute of it."

Rogue heard the emphasis he put into his last sentence of words and though she was grateful for his efforts, it wasn't any help to her opinions of Lord Black. She could assume he was an honourable man to his staff, it was evident enough but what of his behaviour around women, she thought. He was a handsome, exceedingly wealthy, young man. The first quality alone would hand him a silver platter of women with a half-glance. There was no doubt in her mind that he was no stranger to wooing a woman or two to his bed. However, it was where _she _stood in that area that bothered her. Rogue shuddered slightly at the thought as it sent anxious tremors down her spine. She would not think of that yet. Not until the time arrived…when she was _obligated_ as a _wife_ to…

"Are you alright?"

Rogue blinked and turned her head only to come face to face with an anxious looking John. She smiled feebly and nodded but said nothing else. Her arms fell to her sides again. Before she knew it, John stopped them and opened the glass door that suddenly appeared before them. Rogue had to blink a few times before realising that they had arrived at the mouth of the gardens. A pair of tall, glass and metal doors stood before them. Rogue felt chills run down her spine again as she stared through the glass. The tall garden hedges that outlined the gravel path were bathed in darkness.

"'Fraid I have t' leave y' here Rogue, he's waitin' out there on one of them benches. Jus' follow the path, he'll find you."

Rogue felt her stomach twist with nerves suddenly as her expression turned anxious. She turned to meet John's gaze and he smiled kindly, offering his reassurance. She smiled feebly before thanking him for his efforts to cheer her up. He gave a short bow and told her he was happy to help. However, before he departed, he held out something to her that she took wordlessly without realising what it was. When she spread apart the dark material in her hands, she realised it was a coat. She thanked him quietly before slipping it on. It was a dark navy colour, velvet and instantly warm against her exposed skin. She pulled it close as John opened the door before stepping out into the cold. John's last words rang out into the night as stepped onto the loose gravel.

"Don't be too hard on 'im Rogue! He means well!"

Rogue grumbled silently but did not call back any reply. She followed the path wordlessly, her breath turning to fog in the air. She felt her ankles become chilled slightly as the gravel crunched under her shoes but she continued onwards. Unexpected nerves began to erupt in her stomach as she continued through the maze. She didn't understand why she was nervous, she knew she had no reason to be. Perhaps it was the fact that she was walking around alone on a freezing, silent night with her ambiguous fiancée out on the look for her. _"No."_ She shook her head at the thought. It wasn't that, was it?

"Hello again _mon chére_."

Rogue felt her heart stop for a full two seconds as her eyes widened in surprise. She felt a warm hand set itself on her shoulder while the familiar voice sent chills over her skin. Within a millisecond, she turned on her heal only to come face to face with her grinning, and not to mention highly amused, fiancée. He chuckled lightly, his breath turning to fog as he spoke up again.

"_Désolé mademoiselle _if I frightened y'."

Rogue's widened eyes turned to a narrowed glare while her icy cheeks turned warm in a flush of pink. His grin broadened as he towered over her smaller frame, his unusual eyes glowing like flames in the dark. Remy hadn't meant to frighten her of course but even if he had, he would have expected her to yelp, not glare at him like he had killed her dog or something along those lines. When she spoke however, her tone was ice cold compared to her burning gaze and heated cheeks.

"Ya didn't frighten meh."

He raised a perceptively questioning brow at her while his smirk remained in place.

"I didn't, huh?"

He watched with satisfaction as her cheeks flushed a little darker at his words. She glared at him again and in a defiant notion, she folded her arms across her chest, cocked her hip to one side and replied.

"Look, ya had John drag meh out here, what is it that ya want wit' meh?"

Remy raised his brow, if possible, a little higher while bemusement marred his face. He continued to grin that crooked grin of his as he began to circle her and talk at once.

"Now, now _mon chére_. No need t' be upset, I just want t' talk. An' seein' as how our party guests jus' wouldn't leave y' alone, I figured dis would be an ideal place."

"An' what? Freeze t' death while we're at it?"

Remy's grin did not fade but there was a calculating look in his eyes. Rogue furrowed her brow at him as he remained silent for a couple of moments but not a moment later, he wordlessly grasped her gently by the hand and led her further into the maze. Rogue was surprised by his gentleness but forgot about it as it dawned on her that she had no idea what he was doing. Frowning at the back of his head as he led her away, she asked.

"Where are we goin' exactly?"

"Y'll see. Jus' trust _moi_ for a moment."

Rogue rolled her eyes irritably. _"A moment. That's all ah'll give ya."  
_

A _few_ moments later, Remy had led Rogue down the path way only to stop them in front of a glass and metal marquee that stood in the middle of a stone, circular court. It was completely surrounded by the tall hedges of the garden, while yellow rose vines entwined the outer railing of the gazebo, giving the small space some seclusion. Rogue had forgotten this place had even existed. However, when she took a second glance at the small building, she noticed the flames that flickered from behind the glass. She wasn't able to question Lord Black, for not a moment later he was gently leading her towards it. When they reached the door, he opened it graciously for her to enter first before closing it behind him. Inside the gazebo stood a set of four chairs while in the middle of the stone floor stood a rounded fire place where a healthy fire hissed and crackled. The glass room was warmer than she had anticipated and so she began to take off her coat. However, before she could even slip out an arm, she felt the same pair of warm hands clasp her shoulders. Gently, he took off her coat wordlessly and hung it over the back of a nearby chair along with his own, long trench coat **(1). **He turned back to her and took one of her gloved hands and again, wordlessly, he led her towards a vacant chair and set her down before taking up the seat beside her. When they were comfortable, or in Rogue's case as comfortable as she was going to be in the given situation, Lord Black spoke.

"Are y' comfortable _chére_?"

Rogue shrugged. Her gaze remained icy as before while she replied.

"Ah'm not exactly comfortable with our _situation,_ this is as _comfortable_ as ah'm gonna get, mah Lord."

Remy's smirk faded somewhat and Rogue was surprised to find she felt a slight pang in chest for causing such a reaction. She didn't let it show of course. She watched as Lord Black leant back in his chair, his strong arms leant casually over the chair arms as he let one leg rest over the other. When he was seemingly comfortable, he met her gaze again and began to speak. His voice was considerably more sincere than his prior tone of speech.

"Y' were comfortable talkin' t' _moi_ dat day in de forest, _non_?"

Rogue raised a credulous brow at him as she replied.

"That was _before_ ah knew about our…_engagement._"

Remy nodded, finding no other response as appropriate. Rogue was surprised he wasn't trying to justify himself already but was not left unsatisfied by her expectations for long.

"If we be getting married _chére_, don't y' t'ink it would be easier if we got along a little more?"

Rogue turned her gaze away from his and set her gaze on the flames of the fireplace. The light was warm against her skin, soothing perhaps under normal circumstances, but she felt no warmth. _"Get along? How can ah possibly get along with _him!" The idea was, she would admit, reasonable but her pride wouldn't have it. She wanted nothing to do with him.

"_Says the woman wearing the clothes _he_ gave her."_

Rogue slammed back the voice of reason to the back of her mind as soon as the words escaped but they had done their damage well. She shifted uncomfortably, the sound of her frock rustling against the floor cutting through her pride.

"It'll be harder on both of us if y' don't try."

Rogue stubbornly refused to look at him but his words struck true. She was making it harder on _both_ of them. Her pride began to loosen its hold on her reasoning as she pondered over the idea. Everyone had told her a version or part of the same thing, to make the best of the situation. But how could she submit to this? She let a deep sigh escape her as her pride hung by a thread. A moment hung and she felt that same hand clasp her own in a gentle hold. Her gaze turned quickly from the flames only to meet a deeper set of flames. They were liquid pools of embers, both burning and soothing at once. Rogue felt her pulse quicken slightly as she realised that he was kneeling before her, his hands wrapped around one of her own as he stared up at her and kept her gaze locked with his. Rogue gulped silently as she stared back at him. A moment passed before he spoke again.

"Y' could trust_ moi_ Anna-Marie. Not right away but a lil', _non_? Dat's all I ask of y' _chére_."

Rogue opened her mouth to speak once but closed it quickly. Silently, after a few short moments, she gave a soundless sigh and reluctantly nodded. The string her pride had been clasping for life, snapped instantaneously. However, when a jubilant, genuine smile spread across his lips, she almost felt like losing her pride was worthwhile. Gently, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly while his gaze never drew away from her own. When he let her go, his hand remained locked with her own as he replied.

"Merci _chére._"

"Rogue."

"_Pardon_?"

"People call meh _Rogue. _If we're gonna get along, ya may as well start off on callin' meh that. None o' that _chére_ business."

She watched as he began to chuckle amusedly before replying.

"D'accord, _Rogue. Mais,_ _"chére"_ seem t' be fittin' for y', _non_?"

Rogue frowned down on him.

"Ah ain't ya _dear_."

Remy smirked.

"Not yet."

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_**-ugh- my fingers are so numb from writing this! REVIEW!**_

_**-ultimategammy91**_


	11. Making an Effort

Hey everyone

_**Hey everyone! Thanks for all the reviews, you know I love getting them and hearing what you think, so thanks. OH and I forgot to add a note that notice in the last chapter. Here it is.**_

_**Well we all know Remy isn't Remy without his classic trench coat! I had to put that in somewhere!**_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_

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**Chapter Ten – Making an Effort **

_**A month later…**_

"Oh Anna-Marie, you are _so_ lucky! I mean, I'm engaged to a Count, but _you!_ You have a _Lord!_ A handsome and rich Lord no less! You couldn't ask for a more deserving or pleasing marriage. And to think it's only a few short weeks away…"

Rogue smiled feebly at Miss Constance Berley's words but her heart wasn't even remotely in the gesture. To her _'luck'_ as Miss Constance would put it, the younger woman paid no heed to her lack of enthusiasm at the mentioning of her _fiancée. _If fact, it wasn't really _his_ fault for her lack of interest, it was her _Aunt Carrie's_ doing. About a month ago, as Aunt Carrie had insisted she had informed her of beforehand, her Aunt had sent out invitations to a Wedding Shower to almost every single woman of high society between the age of fifteen and twenty-five, married, unmarried, betrothed but none spinsters. Hence, when Rogue was woken that fine, frosty winter morning at the crack of dawn, she had been practically dragged out of bed by her Aunt's claw-like fingers and made to dress _accordingly_ and prepare to receive her guests. It had been a long, painful and since the Shower commenced, possibly the most dreadfully _droll_ experience of Rogue's life. She only prayed that God would have mercy on her and make the minutes pass quicker towards midday so that the Shower could end and she could return to her _usual_ misery. Evidently, if God was truly listening to her prayers, Miss Constance wouldn't continue to chatter like a talking bird. Though she was a pretty young girl of only fifteen, engaged to a Count as she said, and of a family of great wealth and respect, she had the personality that squandered all her favourable qualities the moment she opened her mouth and spoke. Her voice was a cluster of girlish giggles, high soprano tones and possibly the fastest tongue in all of England. Rogue flinched inwardly as she sat upright in the grand seating room, not three feet away from the chair Miss Constance sat upon. When her chatter finally ceased for the moment, Rogue gave a polite, albeit strained, smile and replied.

"Thank you Miss Constance, you're too kind."

Miss Constance waved her hand in a delightfully dismissive way but smiled in a proper fashion a lady should when receiving a complement from one's equal. When she returned her hand to her lap, she subconsciously pushed away an invisible piece of string from her floral white and mint-green gown and graciously turned her head of mousey brown curls to smile pleasantly at another woman who concurred with her words. Her face was powdered to perfection, pale as fashion predicted while her cheeks pinched pink. Rogue had to fight back a chuckle when Miss Constance had first greeted her upfront. On the young woman's left cheek about a centimetre from her mouth was a tiny drawn-on mole that hadn't ever been there before. Rogue wanted to cringe and laugh at the sight of the woman's _proper manner of behaviour_ but restrained herself. _"One wrong word, or scowl out of you. And girl, I will slap you stupid!" _These had been Aunt Carrie's precise words of _advice_ when dealing with her _'lady friends.' _Rogue clung to her Aunt's words with all the will she could muster to stop herself from telling Miss Constance what she _really_ thought of her complements. However, it was not just Miss Constance. And she was not the worst of them. Another young lady spoke up, causing Rogue to turn her head simultaneously towards her, Mrs Louisa, Jonathan Martin. She was about a year older than herself, as Aunt Carrie had informed her, married and notorious for saying one thing but her expression saying something entirely different.

"My husband, Mister Martin, has heard much about Lord Black. He heard he's absolutely _notorious_ for being the most _adored_ man of Parisian society."

Rogue forced herself to suppress a scoff at her words. She was sure that what Mrs Martin _really_ meant to say, from the slight rise of her femininely plucked brow, something along the lines of Lord Black being _'the most notorious player and scoundrel of Parisian Society.' _It did not surprise her very much, as she had heard various scandalous rumours about him and his family before this. She had heard worse but when he spoke to her, it didn't seem like that was him at all. Of course, he was capable of such scandal and philandering but somehow she couldn't believe it. Not when she knew so little about him and so many rumours that somehow managed to reach her ears from the very people she was supposed to deem 'friends.'

"Well, I heard that he owns a town house in Paris, in the French Country side _and _in the Caribbean."

"And Italy, as I have heard."

"I heard someone speak of a house in Rome too!"

"Two houses in the Caribbean!"

"An Island? No! You bluff Miss Delaine…"

"Dear Lord, really? Two houses in the Caribbean? My, Lady Anna-Marie you're going to have a house in every place in the world!"

Rogue smiled politely. Her façade falling slightly as the wildfire of chatter began to spread about the room and raise the noise to another level.

"Paris, Italy, Rome and the Caribbean is hardly the world, Miss Donovan."

A few faces lost their colour slightly at Rogue's light retort but not a moment later, Miss Constance spoke up again with a shrill nervous laugh.

"Oh how dearly ironic you are Lady Anna-Marie!"

Rogue smiled, _ironically _but grimaced inside as she continued to pull at a loose strand of string from her grey gown. How she wanted to run, to escape the horribly placid and faux politeness of the atmosphere before she lost her mind completely. However, before she could loose her mind or run, she felt the two-seat sofa shift slightly as a newcomer came to sit beside her. Several groups had formed around the room, but all seemed to try to catch onto her group's conversation, being the honorary host and all. She turned to meet the newcomer's face only to give a silent sigh of relief when Lady Jean Grey, her neighbour, came to sit beside her. Jean was a radiant young woman in both beauty and character and stood out from the other ladies as the only _true_ Lady Rogue had even had the pleasure of being friends with. While her face was praised by a delicate, kind smile, her radiant red hair was pulled back in luscious thick curls by a hair clip of fresh pink-stained white roses and strings of pearls. Her moss-green eyes were bright with genuine kindness as she spoke and put a hand on Rogue's hand that rest on her lap.

"I'm so sorry I was late coming here dear Anna-Marie, but my carriage had trouble with the snow. I hope I did not miss anything terribly important."

Rogue smiled, genuinely relieved and happy to see her friend come at last. She gave her friend an appreciative squeeze of her hand as she spoke.

"I was beginning to think you had decided not to come."

Jean laughed lightly and shook her head as she replied.

"Oh no, I wouldn't do that."

They shared knowing grins. "_And leave you hear to the mercy of these lionesses?"_ was a common thought for both of them before they were interrupted by Aunt Carrie. She had been mingling with a pair of young ladies across the room but of course, upon the sudden arrival of Lady Jean Grey, she could not even _think_ of not trying to make the _right impression_. Therefore, when she approached Lady Jean, she gave a winning, charming smile and took Jean's hands in hers as she spoke.

"Lady Jean Grey! My dear, it is wonderful you could have made it."

Jean, who was no fool to Aunt Carrie's attention-seeking ways and _true _nature, smiled a façade of rehearsed politeness as she replied.

"Lady Delmar, it's a pleasure to see you again. You look well."

Aunt Carrie smiled obligingly and released Jean's hands as she spoke again.

"Oh you are too sweet, dear."

She purposely smoothed out a piece of her greying hair and smiled proudly. Rogue had to clench her teeth not to laugh at her Aunt's actions but luckily for her, Jean remained calm as she spoke.

"I thank you for the invitation Lady Delmar, I'm very glad I could come. Anna-Marie is a dear friend and I would not have missed it for the world."

Aunt Carrie's gaze landed on Rogue for the first time since coming to see Jean. Her smile fell slightly as she replied, sweetly.

"Indeed. You do not know how _undeserving _she is of such kind praises from a Lady as yourself Lady Jean."

Rogue felt her blood boil slightly but held it back without an ounce of effort. She would let it out later. She always did. Jean and Aunt Carrie conversed for a little longer before Aunt Carrie was called away by another conversation. Rogue was thankful that Jean had come as late as she had been, for the minutes passed a little quicker with Jean to support her through this terror of high society's _best_. Soon enough, the clock in the room struck twelve and the ladies began to move out of the room towards their waiting carriages and footmen. As they did so, Rogue stood by at the entrance to the mansion, thanking each guest for attending and for leaving their gifts with a small peck on the cheek or a curtsy as they made their way out. When all except Jean had departed, Aunt Carrie walked off at a hurried pace quickly followed by Roy. She had said something about preparing lunch for a round of her grandfather's guests but Jean and Rogue had been long out of the room by the time she let her duties be know. The two friends made their way swiftly out of the house, cloaked in warm fur coats as they made their way into the snow covered gardens. The snow crunched under their shoes as they walked with an arm wrapped around each other's waists while they spoke freely.

"Oh! That was- _ugh_ ah'm so glad that's over an' done with!"

Jean let out an amused chuckle as they walked across the snow covered grass and off the cleared gravel path that they were _supposed _to walk across. The cold, winter air became mist as she opened her mouth to speak.

"And just think, you will never have to do that again."

Rogue gave a groan of frustration as she whined.

"Oh Gawd do ah hope so."

Jean chuckled before she spoke.

"You only have a Wedding Shower once for each marriage, Rogue. Why? Do you plan on marrying again once you're through with your husband?" 

Rogue chuckled meekly and patted her friend affectionately on the arm as she spoke.

"No, if it means ah have t' go through that again, -no, ah won't get married again. But ah'm not married _yet_ so stop callin' him mah husband!" 

Jean let out a warm laugh but inside she felt relieved by the good humoured tone that Rogue held when speaking of her fiancée. It had taken her a month to _begin_ sounding remotely pleasant about _him. _Jean remembered the first time she had visited after the engagement had been announced. Rogue had been venomously against the idea of being in an arranged marriage to a complete stranger. Now, things had become at least a little more bearable. Rogue had put an effort into _trying_ to make the best of the situation and though she was not completely won over, as it was expected from such a woman of her character, she and Lord Black had become…tolerable of each other, if not on some kind of ground of appreciation for each other. It had been a welcomed change.

"Are ya alright Jean?"

Jean smiled, pulling away from her trail of thoughts, and nodded as she replied.

"How is Lord Black?"

Rogue became quiet for a moment but when she spoke, she took a civil tone.

"He's…fahne."

Jean turned her gaze to meet Rogue's with an uncertainly raised brow.

"Just 'fine'?"

Rogue nodded as she kept her feet the ground. She didn't want to elaborate much but Jean would not have such an inadequate answer. She hugged her friend close as she replied.

"Alright, tell me, what did he do?"

Rogue fought back a smile but Jean saw her bite down on her lower lip before she could deny anything more. Jean gave her an expectant look. After a few moment of silent walking, Rogue gave a sigh of defeat and with a reluctant tone in her voice, she replied.

"Fahne…Ah was in the library yesterday, reading a book when he came in. Only, ah didn't hear him so he surprised meh a little an' made meh drop mah book. He apologized, -grinning smugly o' course, and picked up mah book off the floor. It landed on the page ah was readin' last an' he started reading it…out loud."

Jean chuckled, sensing her friend's particular discomposure over that matter of the story. She smiled and asked.

"What was it you were reading?" 

Rogue, despite the cold that turned her fair skin a shade whiter than usual, felt her cheeks pulse red with embarrassment as she replied.

"William Shakespeare's _Twelfth Night or what you will._"

Jean let out an amused giggle.

"Oh that is not so bad- unless…which part did he read?"

Rogue felt her cheeks turn crimson as Lord Black's recantation of the script rang through her ears.

…_**Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white**_

_**Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on. **_

_**Lady, you are the cruellest she alive,**_

_**If you will lead these graces to the grave,**_

_**And leave the world no copy…**_

"When Feste and the Lady Olivia speak with each other, when he calls her a fool."

She replied but her thoughts spoke otherwise. _"The part where Viola speaks of her master's love for Olivia." _His voice continued to play in her mind as she remembered every word by heart as she had since she was a young girl. The play was a dear favourite to her…not that he knew of course. But the way he had spoken of it had made…an impression, to say the least. His words had spoke some strange, symbolic truth to _their_ situation. She felt her heart begin to race again just as it had when he continued to read the script to her.

…_**I see you what you are, you are too proud.**_

_**But if you were the devil, you are fair,**_

_**My Lord and Master loves you- O, such love**_

_**Could be but recompensed, though you were crowned**_

_**The nonpareil of beauty!**_

Was she doomed to be Olivia? Supposedly loved by a man who declares all forms of adoration and begs for a chance for her affections so that they may wed? Though there were various aspects of their engagement that were entirely different. She couldn't help but think…wonder… if he was trying to say something through the words that wasn't actually spoken between them… not seriously…

"Rogue?"

Rogue instantly snapped out of her thoughts at Jean's voice. However, when she turned to look at her friend, there was no concerned or confused look across her face. She wasn't even looking at her, she was looking ahead at…

Scott was walking across the gravel path about thirty feet away with a large, heavy pile of chopped timber in his arms. He wore a dark woollen coat that made his figure appear silhouette-like against the grey-toned snow around him. Rogue returned her gaze back to Jean's to study it closer. Her face was pinker than it had been not moments before while her eyes remained alert and unblinking. There was no denial there was every ounce of unspoken affection and longing in Jean Grey's eyes. However, as if by some kind of telepathic link or sixth sense of knowing, Scott stopped mid-way in the path and turned his body to face in their direction. Rogue watched as Jean's face reddened to a deeper shade of crimson. A moment passed before Jean turned to Rogue and gave her an almost pleading glance. Rogue smiled and nodded knowingly before letting her hold on her friend go. Jean was running at a moderate pace across the snow within moments. Her crimson dress swayed noisily with her movements as its rims became snow-soaked but she made little indication of noticing as she made her way to Scott. Rogue couldn't stop the warm smile from spreading across her lips at the sight as Jean came to stand before Scott a mere foot apart from each other as the spoke. To the best of Rogue's knowledge, Scott had loved Jean Grey since they were all young children. However, as boundaries of society, class and money rose between them, it became more apparent with every inch that they came closer together that in this world they were all fundamentally bound to they could never have a life together. At least, not in the eyes of Jean's family and those who would wish them separated. Rogue felt pity and jealousy for them. She felt jealousy because they had each other and loved each other so and at the same time pitied them because they could not openly act upon their love. It made her own situation seem like nothing in comparison, as relationships of love were a far more complicated and troublesome situation than a relationship without love.

Rogue watched with a heavy sigh as Scott and Jean continued to converse in the distance. They made their way down the gravel path and out of sight. After a few moments, she decided to give them their small sliver of privacy and began to walk in the other direction. However, as she turned on her heal to walk back, she ran face-first into something surprisingly warm and solid. The force made her stumble back but before she could fall into the snow, she felt a pair of strong hands grasp her by the shoulders and steady her on her feet. When she tilted her head to look up at the figure however, she was stunned to find Lord Black grinning down on her. She felt her cheeks burn as he spoke up.

"_Bonjour _Rogue. Y' look well dis afternoon."

She felt her blush creep down her neck as she stared up at him. Her hands had somehow clasped around his strong arms while his hands remained firmly holding her shoulders. She felt his chuckle of amusement hum down his arms as he spoke.

"_Et belle _when y' blush. Are y' alright?"

Rogue blinked for the first time in a probably a full minute before letting go of him and slipping out of his hold to let a foot of space come between them. He continued to grin, his breath causing clouds of mist to escape his nose as he watched her. After a few moments, and after her blush had subsided somewhat, she spoke.

"What- What are ya doin' here, Damien?" 

Shortly after their discussion on the night of their engagement party, Remy had insisted that she begin to call him by his first name. Though he felt odd pangs of guilt at being called under his false name by _her,_ it was necessary to build up some degree of trust between them. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. He kept his smile at ease as he turned to one of his trench coat pockets and pulled out a small, rectangular package and handed it out to her. Her brow furrowed in confusion, but she did not reach out to take it. He chuckled softly and extended it closer within her reach as he spoke.

"It won't bite _mon chére- _It's for y'."

She raised a disbelieving brow at him but again, did not take it.

"What is it?"

Remy smirked as he took a step towards her and reached out to take one of her hands. Her hands, he noticed, were like ice without gloves on but just as soft as ever as he wrapped them around the package. He let it go within her grasp while he spoke.

"Maybe y' should open it an' see, _non_?"

Rogue raised her brow at him once more but nevertheless began to un-wrap the parcel. It was wrapped in a thick brown paper but after a few tears and pulls, she was able to pull from its clutches a-

"A book?"

Remy smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes as he replied.

"_Non_?" 

Rogue rolled her eyes at him as she turned it over to look at its cover. It was hard-bound but not a thick volume, and across the cover was the title-

"A Midsummer Night's Dream?"

Remy smiled charmingly. He felt a spasm of joy engulf his senses as, ever so slowly, her eyes became brighter- _happier_. A small smile threatened to tug at her lips a she turned her gaze back to the book. He watched as her small fingers traced over the rims of the cover affectionately. It took every ounce of his will not to tease her about beginning to smile, but he knew if he did it would disappear. So he spoke otherwise-

"I realised, after y' left de library, dat y' didn't have it in y' collection. Have y' read it before, _chére_?"

Rogue shook her head as she came to meet his gaze. His smile broadened as he replied.

"It be one of my favourites. I t'ink y' would enjoy it, has evert'ing dat _Twelfth Night_ had _et_ more."

Rogue suddenly felt warm inside as she absentmindedly traced the rims of the cover in her fingers. She had never received many gifts in her life, not in England at least, but even so, no gift she had ever received had been as heartfelt as this. After a moments silence, she managed to give a gentle response.

"Thank you, Damien…ah…ah don't really know what to say, except that."

Remy grinned. _Triumphant._ However, before she could say anything more, he reached out a caught her free hand and held it. Their gazes locked for a moment before he spoke.

"I expected nothing more than your thanks, _mais, _I was wondering…"

Rogue felt her warmth diminish slightly as he trailed off for a moment before continuing.

"…If y' would care t' join _moi _in de library. Y' see…"

As he spoke, he reached into his other pocket and pulled out another book which, when she took a closer looked, was another copy of the play.

"I have my own copy wit' _moi_._ Mais, _I find reading it in mind isn't as entertaining as reading it aloud."

Rogue's face fell slightly as she paled.

"Are ya suggesting we…?"

"_Oui_. I intend t' read it aloud t' y', an' if y' should like t' join moi, den I couldn't be happier."

Rogue stared at him for a moment. There was such blatant honestly in his eyes, no tricks, no apparent attempts for attention or gain to his ego. He was genuinely trying to make an effort for them to get along. The question was, however, was whether or not she was willing to let him try.

"Y' don't have t' if y'd rather read it alone _chére_."

Rogue looked down at his hold on her hand. It was a warm hold, gentle but firmly in place. His hands were surprisingly gentle in comparison to their roughness and worn texture. Rogue frowned slightly. They were not the hands of a man of high society. No man of that kind ever did anything for himself with his own hands. The only man she had ever seen such hands on had been…_ "Mah father…"_ She was brought out of her analysing thoughts when she felt his fingers squeeze her hand lightly in waiting anticipation. Finally, she raised her head and replied.

"Ah'll listen, ya read?"

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_**Olivia: Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot love him.**_

_**Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,**_

_**Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth,**_

_**In voices well divulged, free, learned, and valiant,**_

_**And in dimension and the shape of nature**_

_**A gracious person. But yet I cannot love him…**_

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_**Hope everyone enjoyed this!**_

_**Disclaimer: Don't own Twelfth Night, that it the property of William Shakespeare. **_

_**REVIEW! **_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_


	12. Keeping the Mask in Tact

_**Hey everyone, sorry about the wait but I've been rather extremely busy. lol. **_

_**Thanks for the reviews! **_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_

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**Chapter Eleven – Keeping the Mask in Tact**

_**A week later…**_

Despite her pride, Rogue couldn't help but let the corners of her mouth turn to form a small smile of amusement. Luckily for her pride however, she was able to hide it behind her closed hand while she leant her elbow over the arm of her chair. The tips of her nails lightly grazed her bottom lip while her eyes remained intact upon the man before her. Lord Bla- _Damien,_ as she had brought herself to call him in these recent times, sat in the armchair opposite her while he read aloud from _A Midsummer Night's Dream._ He was, to put it briefly, a man _made_ for dramatic reading. The words seemed to slide from his lips with such timed smoothness and a natural feel that when he had first begun reading to her **(1) **she was left speechless. She had half expected to burst into laughter after mere minutes of his reading. Thus, she had been surprised when she found that not only was _Monsieur Damien Black_ a skilled swordsman but a talented performer. Rogue had practically melted into her chair within the first hour he had begun. Transfixed by his voice, his hand gestures and charismatic expressions, she had practically become welded her into her seat. On the first day, that day he had presented her with the book as a gift, they had stayed until supper time in the library of the house. She had been, surprisingly, most silent while he had read consistently without a show of strain. Now, a week onwards, they were near the last page. After the first day, of course, Rogue had begun to find her voice again and interrupted frequently to ask questions about how he grew such a talent with Shakespeare. Of course Damien had teased her that she thought him _likeably _talented but had explained nonetheless that he just picked it up over the years. Conversations, since then, had grown lengthier than the script of the play. Over that week the book spent at least half the time resting on the armrest while he answered her questions, teased her playfully and even convinced her into going for a morning horse ride when the weather was fair enough. His answers and questions had caused her to scowl, laugh and blush most profusely before retorting or answering his own questions.

"Rogue?" 

Rogue snapped out of her small daze of thought. Damien's smirking face came back into focus as he sat before her, the book closed on his lap. She furrowed her brow a moment before speaking.

"Sorry, what?"

Remy chuckled lightly at the slightly bemused expression across Rogue's face. He hadn't expected such a dramatic change of attitude toward him in less than _two months_, or to be exact, five weeks. Though the subject of their arranged marriage was never really pulled out into the open, it was more or less agreed it was an _off-limits _subject to talk about. Of course, after they _were_ married, Remy had no doubt in his mind that it _would_ bring about bigger issues. He just prayed she would be as _merciful _as she was now that he had gained a little more of her trust. He broke from his thoughts momentarily as he replied with a smile.

"Y' did hear _moi_ say _'The End'_ _non?"_

Rogue gave a half chuckle as she shifted her hand away from her mouth but continued to rest her chin in the palm of her hand. She closed her own copy of the play, though she hadn't been following it word for word, and replied honestly.

"Ah'm sorry, ah'm just not really _here_ at the moment."

He chuckled again as he replied with a teasing note.

"I didn't t'ink it was _dat_ boring, _chére_. _Mais_ if it was den we could have stopped, _non_?"

Rogue raised a hand in protest and to silence him as she replied with a half-amused smile.

"No! It wasn't- really. Ah'm just tired is all an' its lahke an oven in here, its goin' t' mah head a lil'."

"Y' want t' take a walk outside?"

Rogue furrowed a brow at him sceptically before slowly turning her head towards the nearest window. There was practically a blizzard blowing outside and he was suggesting they take a walk? When she turned back to look at him, she raised an incredulous brow at him as she replied.

"In _that_?"

Remy smirked. A teasing glint was present in his eyes.

"Might clear y' head a lil', _non_?"

Rogue rolled her eyes at him as she slid back into her chair with her arms crossed. She kept her brow raised as she replied.

"Might also give meh a load o' frostbite. Ah think ah'll pass on that offer."

Remy shrugged but continued to smirk teasingly as he slipped his book onto a near-by tea table. A moment of content silence passed as the fireplace continues to crackle and fill the room with warm embers and dulled light. In this moment, Rogue's gaze fell back on Damien, darting immediately to his unusual eyes as they stared into the nearby fireplace. The flames ignited his red irises' inner fire and glazed them with the flame-light. Rogue found herself transfixed again with wonderment as a new question, one she hadn't really considered, came to stand on the tip of her tongue. After another moment, she spoke up.

"Damien?"

Remy turned his head almost immediately at her gentle voice. Though he was surprised by her gentility and suddenness, he quickly recovered as he replied.

"_Oui_?"

Rogue bit down on her lower lip for a hesitant moment as she shifted her gaze. Slowly, she returned to meet his eyes as she spoke carefully.

"Your eyes, have they always been that way or…?" 

Remy remained immobile for a moment. His eyes, in their unusual appearance, had always provoked interest. In most cases his eyes instilled only fear, distrust and hatred. Not too many people in his life had ever really _asked_ about his eyes. Thus, when _Rogue did_, it caught him off guard and left him baffled a good couple of moments before he was able to reply. He averted his gaze, half ashamed in spite of all the years he had built himself against such questions, as he replied.

"I was born wit' dem. Dey weren't an accident or some kind o' infection if y' wonderin' dat-"

"Ah wasn't actually thinking that. They're just…"

Remy raised his gaze slowly to meet her own. He couldn't believe the words he was hearing as they slipped through her lips but her eyes assured him that ever word was spoken true.

"They're unusual, but unusual in a beautiful way."

Remy took a few moments to react to this. _She was complimenting him! _How rare a thing was that? And about his eyes no less! After a couple of moments had passed, Remy let a genuinely appreciative grin spread across his face before replying. If his pride had allowed him, he would've laughed in disbelief or wonderment.

"_Merci_ Rogue. Don't t'ink anyone has ever said dat about _mon _eyes b'fore…t'ank y'."

Though she probably wouldn't admit it, Remy saw the hint of a smile in the left corner of her lips and a light blush that coloured her cheeks. She was dressed in a pale glossy-green gown with long sleaves and a collared neckline. Despite the conservativeness of the winter gown, she couldn't have looked better to him. Her eyes, he noticed, flickered slightly with the embers of the blazing fireplace beside them. The mixture of burning flames and the light jade green of her eyes were hypnotic. Remy stared unabashedly for a couple of moments. All the while he lingered in his disbelief at her words. She was actually beginning to trust him these days. He found it was almost heartbreaking to think in no less than three weeks he would be tearing down the progress they had made in his attempt to be truthful with her.

"_Thus is the cost of truth…"_

He held half a heart most days to tell her the truth straight out before the _real_ damage could be done but there were too many risks. Too many things could interfere in their plans and he'd be damned if he let any of _them_ interfere.

"Excuse me, Lord Black?"

Both heads turned at the familiar voice that entered the room. From the grand double-doors of the library, John's head had appeared. He gave an apologetic smile to Rogue before he continued.

"Sorry for the intrusion, but there's a messenger that jus' came. Has a letter for you, sir."

Rogue turned to meet Remy's gaze just as he turned to face her. He gave an apologetic glance before standing, bowing upon ceremony (though with a usual smirk in tow), and apologized but assured her he'd be back within the hour. With a small reassuring smile, Remy left the room and followed John. As soon as they had left, Rogue fell further back into her chair and let out a breath of air she hadn't realised she had been holding. The way he had been staring back at her for the past two minutes had, to say the least, stunned her a little. She hadn't seen him look at her that way before, not with such disbelief and wonderment. He was usually so cool and _suave_ it seemed almost out of character for him to appear so blatantly unsettled. Though it was obvious to see that he wasn't exactly _proud_ his eyes, she found it difficult to understand how _anyone_ could consider them unpleasant. She wondered who could have convinced him to feel so ashamed of his own eyes. Men could be damned for plenty of other qualities but not for simply being the way God had created him. His eyes were unnatural but at the same time, beautiful. Could no one but herself see that?

"_And to think," _Said a taunting voice at the back of her subconscious._ "You get to look into those eyes everyday for the rest of _your_ life."_

Rogue grimaced lightly at the words but pushed them back. _"Not that ah wouldn't mind lookin' into those eyes every day for the rest of my life. Just…" _It was only the fact she had _no choice_ in the matter that made her grimace. She knew she _liked_ Damien. There was no doubt in her mind that despite his annoying tendencies to be _charming,_ teasing and insufferable at times to the point where she would love nothing more than to strangle him, she liked him in no other form. There was also the issue of him having to _"tell her everything once they were married"_ was still there. The thought of it caused a frown to mar her pale face. If given the choice, she would have wanted to know _now _what he was obviously hiding but there was always a nagging anxiety attached to her interest. What could honestly have to wait until _after_ they were married? She knew very well that it wasn't out of a concern for money. If he was marrying her for her money, he wouldn't be _able_ or willing to offer _double of her inheritance _in exchange for her hand. It was most _definitely_ not out of love either, so what could the reasons be? The frown across Rogue's face deepened as it became a lost cause. She _would_ have to wait.

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_**Meanwhile…**_

The two men turned around a corridor sharply as they walked a quick pace. As they did so, Remy began inquiries about _the messenger._

"Is it _Hans?"_

John gave a curt nod as they turned onto an empty corridor. The sound of their foot falls was the only occupant sound aside from their hushed voices.

"Yes, he made it to London some time in the night. He's pretty dead on his feet, Captain. But he's waitin' in the stables. He's got word from your Pa."

Remy nodded. He was pleased that all had gone accordingly but the agitation that began to bite at his consciousness, causing a thoughtful frown to spread across his usually cool features. John was quick to notice the slight edge in the air as he studied his Captain's face. He raised an anxious firry-orange brow as he spoke.

"Captain? You alright?"

Remy was silent for a moment. A moment later, the echoing of footsteps came to an end as he stood rooted in place in the middle of the stone corridor. His head turned back to the corridor end that they had just emerged from before he spoke up. His gaze never faltered as he addressed John in a hushed tone.

"Where _is_ Monsieur Delmar?"

John furrowed a brow at him but replied nonetheless.

"Locked in his study, last I checked. Why?"

Remy was silent again, his lips turning to a thoughtful thin line. His gaze narrowed for a moment before he turned his gaze to John. His expression became anxious but determined as he replied.

"Go keep Rogue company, I don't like leavin' her alone y' know."

John nodded in complete understanding. The night before the Bridal shower, they had had the misfortune of hearing Lord Delmar's bellowing voice from across the building. Though they hadn't heard what he had said, the dark bruises that marred Rogue's left wrist at breakfast the next day had been enough of an explanation. Remy had seldom left her alone after that, hence the introduction of Shakespeare readings. It kept her out of Lord Delmar's way and allowed _him_ to earn whatever trust he might be able to keep once they were married and he told her the truth. So, with a nod of understanding, Remy left John to return to the library while he made his way to the stables. To ease his friend and Captain's worries, John tried to walk as swiftly as possible as he made his way back to the library.

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Rather than dwelling on what would not be answered (until after their marriage) Rogue decided to keep herself busy until Damien returned. Picking up her own copy of the play, she made herself comfortable in her chair and set her gaze on the fine print. She was barely one or two pages into the first act when the door to the library burst open with a deliberate slam. Rogue jumped, her head turning swiftly to the door only to freeze in place. Though an outburst from her Grandfather was not unsurprising, the sudden slam of the door caught her off guard. She tried not to look too surprised, shutting her half-gaping mouth, as she stood up instantaneously after Lord Delmar's entrance. She gulped silently as he strode towards her, his feet echoing violently like thunder in a storm. She held her breath as he came to a stop before the fireplace. His dark gaze set on the flames as he spoke. His tone grew closer to a snarl with each word.

"So this is where _you_ have been hiding is it?"

Rogue tried to keep her voice firm and calm but the firm sense of _control_ her grandfather held at this moment was disturbing. He had never tried to keep himself calm when he was about to scold or verbally abuse her. At least if he started to scream and rant, she would know soon enough what she had _'done'_ to cause such a commotion. Now, however, she didn't know what was to come.

"I-I haven't been hiding, _sir_. Lord Damien and I have been-"

The name acted more like a gun trigger than a state of fact. Before Rogue could finish, Lord Delmar's head had turned instantaneously, his cold eyes set wide and frighteningly upon her. Within the length of a few short moments, he had stepped towards her. In a claw-like fashion, his hand came down upon her and grasped her hair. He pulled on it hard enough to make her wince painfully. He clenched her hair in a tight fist, pulling at her scalp as he hissed in that horribly _cold _and composed voice.

"You were with _him?"_

He pulled a little tighter to make her speak quicker before she even replied. She winced as she did so.

"Y-yes. We've been reading a play together-"

The words were barely out of her mouth before Lord Delmar's other hand shot out like a brandished sword and clasped around her copy of the play. He kept a firm hold on her hair as he looked over the book cover. After he skimmed through the first page, he sneered at it in disgust. He returned to his usual tongue of disgust and rage as he looked at her again.

"_You_ dare read such _trash_ in my house? This _sinful_ _trash_?!"

Rogue could not believe him. How could a Shakespearian play be considered _sinful_ or mere _trash?_ Of course she wasn't surprised for long. Lord Delmar had a way of making anything sound blasphemous and _wrong_ when it concerned her. How could this be any different from any other day? How wrong she was, she did not realise. Rogue tried to explain things gently.

"Sir, it is not trash. It's a well respected _play._ Its William Shakespeare's works, Lord Black suggested it-"

But he was barely listening. No sooner had she tried to explain, Lord Delmar forced her out of her chair and set her on her feet. She felt her back painfully hit one of the stone pillars of the fireplace before she felt the horrible sting of the slap he marred across her face.

"You've _been_ with him, haven't you? All these weeks you've been spending _time_ with him. Meeting him unchaperoned and without proper address. And that _gown _he dared to send you on the night of the engagement! Such disgusting behaviour! Why he's practically made you into his_ whore!"_

Before she could step out of the way or _breathe_ again after the impact of his accusations, she felt herself being backhanded again. This time however, she felt the world turn as she fell away from the flames of the fireplace but backwards into the shelves of the bookcase. She felt the side of her head collide against the sharp edge of one of the shelves. The blow left her stunned, unbalanced in all senses but she could hear every world the Lord Delmar spat in her direction.

"Just because you are engaged, you think it _acceptable _that you perform such sinful acts together? Under _my roof?!_ No, I will not have it…"

His words grew hazy and indistinguishable in her ears as she stared up at him unfocusedly. She felt herself rush in and out of focus before a couple of words caught her ears.

"If it weren't for what that _Frenchman _owes me, I would have thrown you out this very evening…"

He said some more loud profanities and accusations before storming out of the room without a second glance. Rogue, meanwhile, felt the world turn again as she attempted to sit up. She felt her mind and her body totally separate beings. She felt disconnected from the swelling in her head and the shaky, disorientated movement of her own limbs. Somehow she managed to sit up and lean her head and shoulder against the stone pillar of the fireplace. Her eye-lids became heavy as her vision became hazy…

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John whistled lightly as he went at a fast pace up the stone staircase. Soon enough, the stairway was behind him and the long hallway leading to the grand library was ahead of him. However, as he came closer to the pair of large dark oak doors, the sound a familiar raised voice caught his ears. Though muffled by the divide of rooms and stone, the voice was easily distinguished at Lord Delmar's. The muffled rage filled bellowing made him run the rest of the way.

"-All these weeks you've been spending _time_ with him. Meeting him unchaperoned and without proper address. And that _gown _he dared to send you on the night of the engagement! Such disgusting behaviour! Why he's practically made you into his_ whore!"_

His eyes widened as he came to stand just outside the library doors. He knew against his deepest hopes that Rogue _was_ in there. However, despite his intentions of bursting into the room and stopping whatever torture he knew she was being subjected to, he held onto the doorframe to restrain himself. Things would become worse for _all_ of them if he allowed sympathy and anger to take over his actions.

"Just because you are engaged, you think it _acceptable _that you perform such sinful acts together? Under _my roof?!_ No, I will not have it…"

John felt his fingers tighten like claws against the door-way as he clenched it. _"That heartless bastard!"_ Every word that escaped Lord Delmar's lips made him want to break his promise to his Captain and storm in there. They were lies. Lies and accusations that Rogue did not deserve to suffer. He told himself over and over again that to act now would ruin everything and put them all at risk. That ultimately, Rogue would suffer more if he let himself give into the moment. However, when a definite _thud_ erupted from behind the closed doors, he felt himself freeze in place. _"Please, God don't let it be her fallin' t' the floor…let that bastard give 'imself a stroke…" _However, when Lord Delmar's hateful voice rang through the room, he felt himself cringe inwardly. His hopes were useless.

"If it weren't for what that _Frenchman _owes me, I would have thrown you out this very evening!"

There was the sudden, quick sound of heavy footfall before the door opposite from where John stood was flung open and the devil himself walked through. He turned quickly and, to John's ill-fate, turned and noticed him almost immediately. John straightened slowly. He tried his best not to glare with all the hate possible within him as the Lord raised a superior brow at him. Such a move would've pushed him past the edge if he hadn't kept hold of the doorframe and clutched it tightly. He silently chanted _'The plan. Keep thinking of the plan. It'll all be over if y' blow this one up." _Lord Delmar, on the other hand, sneered lightly before hissing.

"Out to pry for your Master_, boy_?"

John bowed his head, hopefully in the most disrespectful way possible, before he replied.

"A man must earn his keep, m'Lord. My keep jus' happens to be earned by looking out for my Master's betrothed."

Lord Delmar's nostrils flared, his brow furrowing in deep wrinkles of old age and anger. However, much to John's chagrin, he didn't retort. He gave a superior-favoured sneer and stormed off. He knew as well as John that if it weren't for the fact that he was being paid _generously_, he would've had John whipped and chained like a common thief. Thankfully, he didn't have that option so easily at his disposal. As soon as Lord Delmar had stormed off, John ripped himself away from the doorway and flung himself through the double doors. At first sight, the library looked still, unshaken and lifeless. That is until the slightest hint of movement caught his eye. The grand fireplace within the room stood straight ahead of him. Its burning flames near engulfed most of the room in a warm glow but he felt the room turn cold as soon as he noticed the fallen form beside it. Half-hidden behind one of the large, plush chairs lay a figure garbed in a pale-green gown. He was at Rogue's side within a few short seconds it took for him to move across the room.

Rogue felt disorientated by the sudden panic-stricken voice that spoke to her. It was shortly after that point that she managed to open her heavy eye-lids. However, when she saw John's alarmed face hovering over her, she couldn't help but frown in confusion._ When had he got here? _She wasn't left to wonder long when she heard him speak again. Relief had washed out much of his anxiety as he tried to help her sit up.

"Mary Mother o' God, Rogue? Rogue can y' hear me?"

Rogue frowned, groaning lightly in her disorientation as she felt John's firm but gentle hands wrap around her upper arms to steady her. A few moments later, John had gently pulled her to her feet, only for her to stumble back as her head began to spin and throb. She didn't feel so disconnected from her injuries anymore. He managed to seat her down on in the comfort of the chair before he spoke again.

"God, Sheila what did he do to you?"

Rogue tried to reply but only managed a couple of mumbled words that were incomprehensible. He didn't seem offended by her lack of coherency but became more concerned as he gently reached out to brush away her white locks to get a better look at her face. What he saw left him wincing painfully before he moved his hands gently away. Rogue was half in and out of consciousness when he managed to speak again.

"Don't you worry, Rogue. I'll go get help. You just stay put until I return."

She wasn't at liberty to argue with him as he gave her a quick reassuring smile before running as fast as his legs could carry him out the door.

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_**I bet you're all gonna HATE ME for leaving it there but honestly, I think the chapter's long enough. Hope you enjoyed it, an update will be coming shortly!**_

**(1) In Jane Austen's book "Sense and Sensibility" (or more, the film adaptation with Emma Thompson and Hugh Grant) General Brandon reads to Marianne after she recovers from her illness and her heartache over Willaby (sp). I just thought that imitating something like that would be perfect for Remy and Rogue to draw a little closer to each other. Also, General Brandon had always been in love with Marianne and she doesn't realise it until much later that she loves him back. It's inevitable that the same should happen with Remy and Rogue (in the long run). Hope you all agree with me on that. And what better book to read than Shakespeare!!! **

_**Review!**_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_


	13. An Untimely Departure

_**Hey everyone! Thankyou for the reviews! Your all wonderful!**_

_**Just keep in mind when you read the chapter title, its NOT what it seems! **_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_

_**Chapter Twelve – An Untimely Departure**_

When Rogue finally felt consciousness revive her senses, she was rewarded with a throbbing sensation of _pain_. Though her head felt bloated with a rising headache, it was nothing compared to the throbbing pain on the right side of her head. She felt like her head had been split into two; two types of pain, two types of injuries. It couldn't have been any truer. Her heavy eyelids managed to slide open momentarily for about a second before they shut closed once more. Her entire body felt stiff but somehow comfortable at the same time. This oddity cause a frown to spread across her face. She attempted to open her eyes again and after a few more moments, the heaviness that hung on her eyelids was relieved enough to allow her to keep them open. Her blurred vision however, took a little more time to return. She could make out a figure or two turning back and forth before her eyes, both blurred and indistinguishable. When her vision finally did return, she was bemused to find Jean Grey and Sarah's relieved faces smiling back.

"Rogue? Rogue can you hear me?"

Jean's gentle voice came out in soft tones but even so, Rogue felt herself wince slightly at the sudden sound. Her friend's voice rang through her ears like loud bell chimes causing her to frown slightly with a wince.

"She must be a little bewildered still, Jean."

"Yes, I think so. Perhaps we should let her sleep a little longer?"

"No…"

She managed to rasp the retort through her dry lips, causing both women to turn their heads and stare bewilderedly. Jean was at her side within moments, resting a gentle hand against her shoulder as she spoke. Her voice wasn't so much like bell chimes anymore.

"Rogue?"

Rogue managed to smile weakly in an attempt to reassure them. Her voice was raspy with disuse but nonetheless distinguishable as she began to speak.

"Ah don't want t' sleep."

Sighs of relief escaped both women. Over a couple of short lived moments, Rogue let her gaze sweep over the room only to discover that she was tucked away in her own, warm bed. The dull, winter-clad sunshine bore into her room through the bare windows while the drapes hung to the sides. The distinct crackling of fireplace flames alerted her to the warmth that engulfed the room. When she was finished looking about the room, she began inspecting herself. She was clad in a warm, white nightgown with long sleaves while her hair hung loosely over her shoulders. The white sheets and her pale green duvet was wrapped securely over her legs and most of her upper body, shielding her from any cold that dared to remain in the room. Though this was comforting to know, she couldn't ignore the fog that seemed to linger at the front of her mind.

"Jean, how…how did ah get here? Ah don't remember gettin' into bed or even…"

Suddenly a flash of a memory stopped her in her trail of speech.

_The vague and diminished sound of a door being ripped open caused a tremor of panic to jolt down her spine. She felt the tremor turn to ease however when a pair of large, warm hands enveloped her face and caused her to open her eyes. A pair of anxious red-on-black orbs met her gaze, encased by a white-as-a-sheet face. She saw his perfect lips move quickly but she could barely comprehend the thick Cajun drawl that was released from within._

"_Chére? Look at moi si vous plait? Please amour?" (please? Please love?)_

_She tried to. She desperately tried to keep her gaze focused on him but her eye lids were so heavy and her head throbbed so terribly it was a painful feat. The voice continued to urge her on as a warm thumb began to stroke her cheek in a soothing manner. As the large hand shifted further to the right side of her face however, a jolt of panic and pain overtook her and she pulled away sharply. Another voice spoke up._

"_Careful Captain! I didn't see it but I know she hit her head hard. That bastard I'll…"_

"_Calm y'self John. Keep talkin' like dat an' I'll take y' up on y' promise an' do it m'self."_

_Those hands moved again, shifting away a lock of white from her face as she lay immobile in the chair. She heard a painful hiss before a hurried rush of whispered curses escaped those perfect lips. Something hot trickled slowly down the side of her head, causing her to shiver involuntarily before the husky, Cajun voice spoke again. _

"_Merde, John, what happened here?! I thought I told y' t' keep an eye on her!"_

_The second voice was full of blatant guilt as he whispered his apologies._

"_I'm sorry Remy, truly. If I had only got there sooner, I-"_

_The memory faded suddenly from her mind's grasp as she came back to the world at present. _

"Rogue? Rogue, dear are you alright?"

Rogue blinked several times before turning to Jean's worried face. Though she couldn't see her face, she was sure that Sarah was staring at her with just as much worry. She shook her head dismissively before speaking.

"Sorry, ah- ah just…remembered somethin'."

This only caused _more_ worry to stain their faces before Jean spoke up.

"Do you remember what happened the other day?"

Rogue frowned bemusedly.

"The other day?"

There was a moment of silent hesitance before Jean spoke up again. She shifted a little closer in her position on the side of the bed and took Rogue by the hand as she began to speak gently.

"John, -Lord Black's servant, found you unconscious on the library floor three days ago. You've been in and out of consciousness ever since. We…"

She blinked back unshed tears and dipped her head forward for a moment. Rogue felt her heart swell with guilt at the evidence of worry and tears in her friend's actions. It was painful to watch as Jean tried to smile at her reassuringly as she raised her head again. Her voice was thick with her emotions as she whispered.

"I thought we were going to _lose you_. Oh Rogue, I- _we_ were so worried about you."

Rogue frowned in confusion as she turned her gaze from Jean to Sarah. Both looked between tears and smiles as they watched her carefully, perhaps thinking she would drop dead at any moment. It was already a lot to take in that she had been in and out of consciousness for three days. Instinctively, she raised a hand towards the right side of her head and gently brushed her fingertips over the bruised bump. She winced painfully, inhaling a hiss of pain as her fingers pulled away automatically. The pain put things into better view but she needed more details as to what happened. The faded memory resurfaced as she spoke.

"What _happened_ after John found meh? Ah…"

She frowned slightly as she closed her eyes. She tried with all her might to remember but when nothing came, she continued to speak.

"Ah don't really remember right now but ah know there's more than that."

Both women gave each other anxious looks before Jean, once again, became the spokesperson for the two of them.

"Well, after John found you he went to find help. He couldn't find anyone in particular so he went to Lord Black-"

Rogue's eyes widened. _That was it!_ The faded memory that was once black and white with frayed edges turned crisp and clear with colours. It was _Damien_ that had been talking, _Damien _who had cupped her face in his hands and asked her to try and look at him.

"-he helped you get to Sarah while you were unconscious. You- You were bleeding from the head and you- oh dear, _dear_ friend I never saw you so pale. I thought you were dead when I saw you. I arrived not an hour after this happened- I wish I had come sooner, oh Rogue, I'm so, so very sorry…"

Before anyone could blink, Jean was sobbing and trying her hardest not to let her tears spill. Rogue felt a knife of guilt tear at her stomach as she blinked back her own tears. Wordlessly, she reached out to her friend and pulled her into a comforting embrace. Jean's tears spilled effortlessly after that. Sarah sat on Rogue's other side with silent tears streaming down her cheeks. It was a while before anyone talked let alone smiled. However, when a nock came from the bedroom door, the friends were forced to pull themselves to composure. A stout, portly old man with a large leather bag in hand was let into the room by Sarah. Rogue could only assume he was her doctor. He smiled kindly in her direction before seating himself down in a chair by the bed. He adjusted his round spectacles as he spoke up.

"Good afternoon, Miss D'Ancanto. I am Doctor Robert Fisher-"

Rogue felt a stab of panic seep into her. Had her friends told Doctor Fisher _everything_ about her _accident_? Over the years, she had sustained beatings that rendered her bedridden and on occasion the need of a doctor. However, given it was Lord Delmar paying for the doctor's care, no doctor was given a hint of the truth. _She fell off her horse, she broke her arm falling backwards, she tripped down the stairs etc. _The real reasons behind her injuries were always kept quiet. When _Doctor Fisher_ had stepped into the room, she grew anxious immediately. If her grandfather was dubbed an abusive man, what action would be taken after? Endless possibilities streamed through her thoughts as Doctor Fisher continued.

"Your fiancée Lord Black acquired my services to tend to you three days ago. I must say it was very wise to call me here. You sustained quite a blow to your head when you fell down that stairway…"

Rogue's eyes widened with incredulity and stifled relief. The doctor gave a kind smile as he waved his index in a mockery of a scolding manner.

"You're a very lucky young lady to have survived with only a small concussion and few stitches, and to have such compassionate friends at your side. You caused quite a scare, my dear."

Rogue managed a feeble smile as Doctor Fisher nodded to his own reasoning. Over the next half hour, he inspected her injuries. He mused aloud that her four stitches were holding things together quite nicely. The wound, he said with a disheartened smile, was most likely to scar and remain there for the rest of her life. Rogue didn't mind. The wound was only just hidden by her dark auburn hair and didn't even touch her face. It would remain but only in hiding. When he finished examining her head, he checked her pulse and asked her a few questions about how she felt. Rogue protested she just felt tired and nothing more. To her relief, he nodded in understanding and replied.

"That is to be expected my dear. A week of bed rest should do you a world of good, so I am ordering your friends to keep you here until the week is out. Agreed?"

Rogue looked a little disheartened. Her voice was still rough and husky with disuse as she spoke up.

"Ah can'te leave mah room?"

He smiled and shook his head.

"Do not worry, child. I assume with good faith that you will not be left without company. With the friends and _suitors _you have looking out for you, I doubt they shall give you a moment's peace."

There was a chorus of gentle laughter about the room as Rogue's face revived some of its colour in a faint blush. After the laughter died down, Doctor Fisher wished Rogue a quick recovery, urged that she not strain herself and with her spoken thanks, he left. Jean let out a sigh filled with relief and a small chuckle as she sat herself down on the bedside. She took her hand again and squeezed it lightly as she spoke to her, smiling again.

"You don't know what a relief it is to see you awake. I thought-"

"Ah'm gonna beh fine, Jean."

Rogue gave her friend's hand a small squeeze as she offered her own, reassuring smile.

"Just fine."

Jean gave another sigh, again with relief, before she nodded and the issue was put to rest. Rogue couldn't have been more grateful for her friend's understanding and ease to her worries. She didn't like having her friend in such a state over her wellbeing when she was going to be fine anyhow. It was not like she didn't appreciate the concern, she just didn't want to be the cause of anyone else's distress. After a couple of moments silence however, other matters came to mind. Rogue furrowed her brow slightly as she spoke.

"What did he mean by _suitors?_"

Jean and Sarah caught each other's gaze and smiled. Rogue raised a brow as she looked back and forth between them for an answer. When she did get an answer, Sarah was the one to begin.

"Well…while you were unconscious…"

When Sarah couldn't stop blushing or smiling, Jean spoke up to finish what Sarah had meant to explain. An uncharacteristically _impish_ glint was kindle in her moss green eyes as she spoke.

"Lord Black, John _and_ Scott and Alex have all been on the prowl outside your door."

The look of absolute disbelief was priceless across Rogue's face. Her cheeks turned a shade pinker than before. Finally, after a few moments of gaping, she managed to speak.

"Lord- _all of them?_ Wha- _Why_? Ah hit mah head, ah wasn't gonna die-"

"_They_ didn't know that yet."

Rogue blinked her widened emerald eyes several times before replying. She still couldn't believe it.

"Well…not all at once, surely. Ah can'te imagine-"

Sarah let out a small snort of laughter from her position at the end of the bed. Both Jean and Rogue stared at her, causing her to blush and apologise with a smile. She replied shortly afterwards.

"Oh Rogue you should've seen them! It was like they were running a moving schedule! Taking turns to keep watch at your door…"

Jean had to giggle at the astounded expression across her friend's face. When she finished, she caught Rogue's attention again and spoke.

"_Lord Black-_"

Rogue didn't like the way Jean emphasised his name. Not one bit.

"-was there almost all day long every day. Oh you should have seen him! He looked so worried and nervous, I don't believe I've ever see a man of his character look so tense."

"He was truly worried about you, Rogue."

Rogue stared at her two friends as they tried ever so hard to emphasise Damien's _genuine concern. _Though she didn't say it out loud, her expression voiced her disbelief. Inside, she felt the half-built wall of platonic fondness and friendship she had developed for the man, melt around her heart and turn to something warm and stronger. Had he really been so anxious about her? She remembered the look across his face when he'd tried to keep her awake. He _had_ been anxious. If there was a stronger word than that to describe it, she would've used it in a heart-beat. She was interrupted from her thoughts however when another nock came from the door.

Again, Sarah was the one to get the door. However it wasn't the person Rogue thought to expect. Her heart just about drummed _out_ of her chest as the door slid open and in came a very familiar and _very pale_ looking figure. Rogue felt her breath hitch immediately but she forced herself to keep a cool composure as Damien stepped through the door. It was like he was walking on frail glass. He entered with such a silent step, she would've have noticed him enter had he not nocked first. He offered a polite nod of acknowledgement towards Sarah and Jean before turning his demonic gaze on her.

Rogue tried not to gulp, or worse, gasp out loud.

He looked like a man that hadn't slept in years. Dark circles lined each glowing orb while his hair, though pulled back into a tail, looked dishevelled. He obviously hadn't shaven in a couple of days either. A defined amount of stubble covered his chin and jaw, almost a thin beard. He offered a half-smile in her direction as he made his way across the room towards her bed. Instinctively, Jean and Sarah made their leave. They were alone within a couple of short seconds. Neither spoke until the footsteps outside were nonexistent. Only then did he move from his standing position at her side. He asked softly if he could sit down, which of course she could only nod in reply as he sat himself on the side of the bed. He didn't touch her but she felt a strange shiver run up her arm that laid closest to him. After a few more moments silence, he spoke. His voice was barely more than a whisper but it was husky and loud enough for her ears to catch.

"Y' don't know how relieved I am t' see y' awake, _chére_. I thought..."

Rogue couldn't for the life of her say anything as he reached forward at a gentle pace and grasped her hand in one of his. The warmth his large hand carried was soothing and familiar. It caused a chill to run down her spine as his fingers massaged her pale skin. Finally, after a few moments of silence and holding her hand, he raised his eyes to meet her gaze. He continued.

"I thought I'd never see those eyes open for _moi_ again."

"_I t'ought y' were gonna die mon belle chérie." _Was what he really wanted to say but he didn't dare. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and whisper every kind of apology and reassuring promise he could muster but he dared not do nor _think_ too long on either whim. What if he scared her off? As he said this, he took in everything that was her. The aroma of lavender and vanilla invaded his senses as his gaze swept over her heart-shaped face. She was paler than usual but there was a little more colour than there had been that _cursed_ day that was now burned into his memory. He had never feared death before. When John had come sprinting to his side out in the grounds, he had just finished off his business with Hans. The panicked look in John's eyes had been disturbing but when he told him through gasps of air that Rogue was hurt and that she had _passed out on the floor_, he felt panic creep through his veins. A moment later, he was running. What felt like moments later he was forcing the library doors open at such a force he nearly ripped the doors off their hinges, but he didn't care. His eyes landed on Rogue's stilled form on the chair and he felt his heart actually _stop_. She looked like an angel of death with her almost ghostly complexion and unmoving form. His whole world had frozen for one raw moment and in that elongated fragment of time, he learned how to fear death. Remy stifled a shudder in the present as the memory spread across his mind. He never wanted to see that again. He never wanted to watch with growing fear as her emerald eyes refused to open at his pleading call. It was hard to shake such fears from his mind as he held her hand and watched her anxious eyes stare back. His fingers itched to pull her into his arms as he put on a ghost of a smile to ease her anxiety. He tried to chuckle but it was a feeble attempt as he spoke.

"No doubt y'll be ridin' Éowyn before de week is up, _non_? Y' look better today."

He recoiled his other hand from its attempt at reaching out to push a stubborn strand of white away from her eyes. _'Don't scare her off'_ he scolded himself as she gave a feeble smile and replied. He could've died at the sound of her weakened voice.

"Doctor Fisher ordered meh t' stay in bed all week. He doesn't want meh t' strain mahself, he says."

He nodded. The ghost of a smile was beginning to return to the land of the living as he replied.

"Probably a good idea _chérie_."

His eyes remained fixed on that stubborn white strand as she shrugged her reply. He was positively tearing himself in two not to reach out to brush it away. He silently begged her to do it herself to stop him. However, after several moments of silence and in his case staring at that persistent white strand, he gave in willingly. He meant to gently pushed it back and remove his hand just as quickly but as soon as his fingers brushed against the soft curl, he was instantly addicted to the sensation. His fingers began to trail down one of her white streaks that outlined the side of her face. His finger tips brushed lightly against the soft flesh of her cheek, causing chills and other sensations to spread through his arm. He didn't realise that the feeling was mutual nor did he suspect it to be. Rogue felt herself shiver involuntarily at his gentle touch, causing him to pull away all too abruptly. She didn't know why but she missed his touch as soon as it was gone. Her eyes darted away from where his hand had been to meet his gaze again. The warm glow was diminished somewhat from his red-on-black orbs as he spoke up again. However the warmth in his voice made up for the lacking in his eyes.

"I came t' tell y' I'm leaving in de morning."

Rogue's eyes widened in surprise as her emotional shield cracked. She blinked a few times before a bemused frown spread across her face.

"Leaving?"

Remy saw the surprise in her eyes and for a small insignificant moment, he dared to hope that she cared more than she let on. No woman wore that expression without caring, he justified. He wanted to cup her face again and gave into that want quickly, not to make what he was about to do any more difficult but to give her some form of comfort. If needed that is. He grazed her cheek gently with his thumb as he answered her.

"_Mon Pére (my father) _sent for _moi _de day y'- three days ago. He needs _moi_ back in Paris for a couple of days."

She nodded in understanding and ignored the quick correction he made to his words. Her gaze shifted to their hands simultaneously. Remy felt himself ache inside at her actions. Her brow furrowed lightly as she spoke up in a small voice.

"Why?"

"Jus' _famille_ matters t' take care of. I-"

"Ah meant_ why_ _didn't_ ya go when he sent for ya?"

Remy found himself struck with speechlessness and certain disbelief. He couldn't believe what her words so obviously insinuated. She had expected him- _Him! Her fiancée and potential husband- _to just leave when she was so clearly a more important concern? He couldn't believe her. Even if his father _had_ sent for him, it wasn't as urgent or near-fatal as Rogue's wellbeing. He nearly went mad being forced to stand _outside her door_ for the past three days. How _anyone_ could expect him capable of leaving her in that unsure state was beyond his understanding. Hell, he was kicking himself inside before any of this happened. When he had gotten that letter from his crewman, Logan, deeming it essential he return to the ship, a dreaded sense of unwillingness had engulfed him. He didn't like the idea of leaving Rogue alone. He had had but a taste of what it cost him to leave her alone in Lord Delmar's path. Remy stifled a growl as resurfaced anger sent tremors through his body. He had met a lot of terrible people in the past but Lord Delmar was only one of the most infuriating and _easy_ to hate. Though he didn't exactly outshine all the villainous devils he knew in his life, he was a nasty piece of work without any doubt. He wanted nothing more than to beat the man black, blue and bleeding- He broke out of his trail of thoughts. He wouldn't be _tempted_ by the idea. _He would stick to the plan._

Breaking from his thoughts, Remy gave Rogue an incredulous look as she refused to meet his eyes. How could she not see that he cared so dearly for her? That he wanted nothing more than to protect her and make her smile. The realisation had hit him so naturally over the course of the last couple of weeks that it made it difficult for him to understand why she didn't too. When he could remain silent no more, Remy reached out with his free hand again and gently grasped her chin between his fingers. He was gentle to tilt her head up but she was quick to raise her gaze to meet his. When he was sure she was focused on him, he spoke. Sincere determination masked his true emotions.

"Don't _ever _let_ moi_ catch y' t'inkin' dat y' _not_ important t' _moi_, Rogue."

Rogue felt whatever breath within her disappear at those words. She would've torn her gaze away or glared at him had his eyes not kept her locked in place. She couldn't believe the determination that shone through those glowing rubies he called irises. She felt a swell of many emotions force a deep breath from her lips as she blinked for the first time in seconds. The determination in his expression continued so she gave a wordless nod of understanding. The determination softened into something else as his finger tips began to move away from her chin. But his hand didn't move away from her face. His hand returned to its previous position, cupping her face while his thumb smoothed over her cheek. She felt so safe in that one hand that she nearly nuzzled into his hold. A small silence passed between them before an oddly saddened sigh escaped his lips and he spoke. His gaze never left hers.

"I should let y' get some more rest."

"Ah'm not tired."

He smirked like the man he usually was as he replied, chuckling.

"Maybe, _mais_ it be de Doctor's orders _non_? No strainin' y'self."

Rogue rolled her eyes as the tender moment turned light hearted.

"Ah hardly think talkin' is strenuous. Talkin' t' _you_ is ah guess."

He let out a hearty chuckle and smiled. Rogue felt oddly warm inside as the smile reached his eyes without fail this time. He was his old self again, full of secrets but equipped with charm. It was a few moments silence before he spoke again.

"Gonna miss dis."

She raised a brow at him sceptically as her heart began to pound again.

"What?"

He smiled as his fingers slipped back to her chin and tugged lightly on it.

"Dat voice o' yours _et _dis banterin' back _et_ forth. It be nice, _non_?"

"_Wonderful actually…" _Rogue didn't let the words escape her lips but she thought it clearly enough. She _would_ miss him, she admitted silently. Silent pauses seemed to pattern their conversation as it came between them. When it was over, Rogue spoke. She tried not to let any emotions run loose as she asked.

"How long are ya gone for?"

Remy smirked as he replied in gentle tease.

"Are y' going t' miss _moi_?"

She raised an indifferent brow at him, causing him to chuckle again. She'd miss that chuckle too.

"Ah don't care what ya do, Damien."

"Sure y' don't."

There came that pause of silence again before Remy spoke up again.

"Will y' miss _moi chére_?"

Rogue bit down gently on her lower lip. A small blush spread across her cheeks as she replied softly.

"Maybe."

That ever present smirk widened across his face as another warm, chuckle hummed through his chest. He ran his index finger over her cheek affectionately as he replied.

"I'll take dat as a sure _'oui.'"_

"Don't be so sure of yourself." 

"Don't need t' be."

"Why's that?"

"B'cause I _know_ y' will miss _moi_, _chére_. Y' eyes,-"

He ran the tip of his index finger over the flesh under her eyes as he continued.

"-Tell _moi_ everyt'ing I need t' know."

She blushed a little harder, not knowing how much he had come to love that colour across her cheeks. Finally, another saddened sigh escaped his lips and he removed his hand from her face. Rogue felt cold suddenly, despite the heat roaming about the room. When he spoke again, it was to say good bye.

"I will be returning a week before de Wedding."

Rogue opened her mouth ever so slightly to ask _'that long?'_ but stifled it before her pride could take the blow. She _wouldn't_ act like she would miss him. They only ended up leaving for good.

"John will be staying behind."

She forgot the idea of missing him completely as a frown marred her features.

"Why?"

He didn't even furrow his brow at her reaction. Obviously, as he kept a straight face, he had expected her indifference to the idea of John staying.

"Jus' t' keep an eye on de preparations f' de wedding is all."

"Try again."

She half-snarled, causing him to smirk in the most infuriating way ever. She pulled her hand out of his grasp and crossed her arms defiantly. Only then did she speak. Her voice was dangerously cold.

"Ah don't need a keeper."

"Dat bump on y' head says otherwise."

She blanched but was quick to scowl again as she retorted.

"Ah've had worse."

"All de more reason f' John t' be here while I'm gone." 

"Ah can handle mahself."

"I do not doubt that, _chére_."

"Then take John with ya."

"I've _ordered_ him t' stay."

"_Make_ him leave." 

"He _wants_ t' stay."

Rogue raised a brow at him in bemusement. Her frown disappeared almost instantly.

"What?"

Remy let out a half exasperated sigh. Though he wouldn't admit it, talking to _her_ was exhausting at times. He started again.

"He wants t' stay here t' keep an eye on y', _chére_."

She didn't say anything but the lost expression across her face made him continue.

He made sure to keep his gaze level with her own as he grasped her hand again and untucked it from under her crossed arms. As he did this, he spoke up in a tone that could swell guilt within the most innocent of innocence.

"It would take a lot of trouble _et_ worry off of his shoulders if y' humoured him a little by letting him do his part by keepin' an eye out f' y'."

Rogue didn't know if it was the way he said it or the way he ran his thumb over her knuckles but she found herself nodding in agreement not ten seconds later. He gave a small, grateful smile and nodded in return. Then, to her dismay, he let go of her hand and stood up from the bed. However, he did not leave just yet. Before she could realise his intentions and before he could stop himself, he was leaning over her and pressing his warm lips to her forehead. It was an innocent kind of kiss. One that only lasted about one or two seconds, but it was of a powerful kind; thick with unspoken promises and truths. Though Rogue wasn't aware of it, it was Remy's way of assuring her (and himself) that all would be well in the end. When he drew back, he offered a warm smile and said a gentle goodbye. She remained silent as still as he walked towards the door. When she finally recovered from the kiss, she turned her head to the door to find he hadn't left quite yet.

"Damien?"

Remy paused at the soft call of _his_ name. As he slowly turned back, he pushed away the giddy feeling that struck him when he heard her call him back. When he turned to face her, he had half a heart to run back to her side. The smile in her eyes shone through like sunset on the ocean horizon. He had to stop himself from stuttering like a love-struck fool as he replied.

"Oui _mon_ _chére_?"

Though she hesitated for a moment, her gaze never left his as she came to speak.

"Thank you."

He blinked.

"Whatever for _chére_?"

Her eyes smiled again though her mouth remained emotionless as she spoke.

"For not telling the Doctor about what _really happened_."

He felt his heart burst. He flashed a crooked smile and with one last look at her face, he turned around and exited the room. He wasn't so sorry he _hadn't_ told the doctor about Lord Delmar.

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_**Well I think I can leave it there. **_

_**REVIEW! **_

_**-UltimateGammy91**_


	14. Return

_**Hey everyone! Thanks for all the reviews and constant patience with my lack of updating. You know the usual reasons why I don't update so I won't bother you with repeating them ;) lol I'm sorry I take so long but when I do something I need to do it right and sometimes that takes time…**_

_**BTW: I've noticed that there is a need for some editing in the previous chapters, I'll be looking into that and making some adjustments!**_

_**Thanks guys!**_

_**-Gams**_

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**Chapter Thirteen – Return **

_**A week later...**_

The cold air billowed fridgedly around the grounds. Though the snow had ceased since sunrise, white snow caked the grounds like frosting and clad the window pannels of the mansion in ice. Grass and once fruitful trees lay hidden and barren in the wintery wasteland. Éowyn's warm breath turned to mist in the air as the snow crunched and crumbled under her hooves. Rogue kept her to a steady, slow trot as she followed her own tracks around the mansion. With the roads clad in ice, it was perilous if not foolish to attempt to ride out of the confines of the estate. Though Rogue itched to stretch Éowyn's legs beyond the congested confinements of the manor but there was more than just perilous roads that kept her from trying. After being confined to her bed for three solid days, she had sworn she would go mad if she had to stay another day in her bedd-riden prison. John, who periodically checked up on her by the hour, had taken pity on her after the fourth day. He allowed her to walk about the manor so long as someone stayed with her _and_ that she promised to not strain herself. Though she had scoffed at the idea of walking being anything strenuous, she gave her word. Sarah or Jean, who had extended her stay to keep watch of her condition, had been more than obliging to the task. By the fifth day however, Rogue was beyond reasoning or promises; she had to leave the manor or resign herself to madness. On the sixth day, she feigned exhaustion and had Sarah and Jean sent away with the assurance that she only wished to sleep. With her friends preoccupied, she took on her riding habit and cloak and set off the stables. Seeing Éowyn after such a time apart had been liberating but slipping onto her own saddle had felt like summer had arrived in sudden haste. After that, practically nothing could dampen her mood or stop her from returning the day after. Though her route remained continuous and silent, she took her chances as a blessing.

Rogue had just passed the corner of the manor where a monstrous gargoyle snarled its open mouth. She passed it without even a glance but was stopped abruptly when when a familiar voice broke through the frosty silence.

"Begging y' pardon m'Lady but aren't you s'posed t' be on bed rest?"

Rogue silently swore as she turned Éowyn around to face the open window above. As her luck would have it, there stood John from the open window with his arms crossed and a disapprovingly raised brow. She would have been humbled by the disapproving look had she not caught sight of the slight rise in the corner of his mouth. She gave her best mockery of an apologetic smile as she reasoned with a none too innocent tone of voice.

"It _has_ been a week, just lahke the doctor ordered."

John raised his brow a little higher at her reasoning. She was certain he was aware of how his mouth formed a slightly crooked smile.

"And yesterday's ride? _That_ was what the doctor ordered was it?"

Rogue's innocent smile turned feeble and useless in a mere amount of seconds. However it returned shortly when an amused chuckle erupted from John's smiling lips. She realised then that it wasn't his disapproval that caused him to cross his arms but the cold. He shuddered slightly as he wrapped a frail looking scarf tighter around his throat. Rogue smiled amusedly at the sight of him. He looked so out of place with his orange red hair and tanned complexion. She daftly wondered how a man, of John's class and origin, could be so tan. Most men of his status were pale faced and slender in frame but here stood John; tanned, lean but considerably thicker compared to any other manservant she had come across. Her suspicions were cut short when John let out a trembled sigh and spoke.

"Y' a crazy girl bein' out here y' know? Riding out in that bloody cold..."

Gave a gentle chuckle of amusement as he let out another trembled sigh and shook his head. To be honest, the cold irritated her to no end but she'd rather the cold's bite than stay congested in her heated bedroom. At the thought of it, she subconsciously rested a finger to her temple. The stitches had been removed the day before last, leaving a fresh scar to continue healing on its own. Her fingertips trailed the small line as a slight frown spread across her brow. A deep sigh escaped shortly after, turning to a cloud of mist before being corrupted by the cold. No matter what she was doing, somehow her thoughts led her to a pair of red-on-black orbs. It was bad enough they plagued her dreams but as she pondered over the last week and a day, they cotinued to glow in her mind's eyes. After Damien had departed, she had been visited by Alex and Scott. Both had looked haggard with exhaust and worry but nonetheless looked pleased to see her conscious. They, along with Sarah and Jean, spent the rest of the afternoon talking about what she had missed in her absence. Though she enjoyed their company and listened intently, at the back of her mind her thoughts circled around one thing; the night Lord Delmar assaulted her. Even after a week, her memory of the night remained patched and unsorted. Only certain memories stuck out in her mind as she revisited them time and time again. She had hoped that being free of the manor's walls would revive her memories but it only proved to chill her fingers and deepen her suspicions. There was something that Damien- if that really was his name, was hiding from her and he had barely let it slip that night in the library.

"_Careful Captain! I didn't see it but I know she hit her head hard. That bastard I'll…"_

John's words riffled through her thoughts as she set her gaze on the horizon. Why would he call Damien _'Captain'?_ At first she had thought it a strange nickname or something but upon closer inspection she didn't recall having heard John call his master by that title. However it wasn't this name that caused her suspicions to rise. Another memory surfaced from that night. John's apologetic voice tremoured with emotion even in her patched memories.

"_I'm sorry Remy, truly. If I had only got there sooner, I-"_

Rogue frowned at the clouds as they slipped none too discreetly across the sun. The grounds seeme a little colder with the loss of the sun's touch and in turn her brooding thoughts darked.

The name Damien didn't seem to fit anymore.

Nor did the trust she had developed for the liar who wore the name like a mask.

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_**That night...**_

The midnight air nipped at his face as Remy set his gaze on the black canvas above. No clouds disturbed the night sky and thus the air was intense with cold. His breaths turned to smoke in the fridged air as he continued to pace the deck. The gentle crash and hush of the tide tickled his ears as the wood planks of the dock creaked and winced under his feet. Apart from the brisk cold, the night was as clear and calm as the city that slept around him. Not a light nor window was lit around the docks and he was grateful for the cover it gave. He and the few crewmen he had with him were disguised in the cloak of darkness, saving them the hinderance of having to hide themselves under the docks or in the water. Remy shivered uncomfortably at the thought of hiding in the water. Give him warm Caribbean waves any day but curse the hour he had to swim in the cursed ice that surrounded the harbor. If all ran swift and smooth this night, he was sure that the event would barely have to cross his mind. For the third time in the last five minutes, he checked his pocket watch only to close it with a silent curse of French. They were running late. He continued to pace the deck, his footsteps careful and muted by the gentle crashes of the tide until finally a new sound caught his ears. His head turned, as did the crewsmen not a minute later, to watch as a shadow passed over the narrow street passage ahead. The large shadow was followed swiftly by a common horse cart.

The sight caused a triumphant smirk to spread lazily across the Captain's face. As the cart came to a halt at the mouth of the gangway, four cloaked figures climbed out. While other three began to unload the cart, the stockiest of the four approached the Captain. A gruff grunt of acknowledgement was how he greeted his Captain before he spoke.

"Everythin's set Cajun."

"No problems wit' de_ transaction_ I take it?"

The older man gave an amused snort and grinned as he removed his hood. His black hair was shaped like a pair of wolf ears in its pointed, wild form. James Howlett's blue eyes, though filled with dark amusement, constantly flickered about their surroundings. The ever watchful First Mate was suspicious of their surroundings as he replied the Captain.

"We got in an' out without a sound, Cajun. But-"

As if on cue, the sound of brisk horse hooves beating against cobble-stone road broke the conversation. Both men turned in time to catch the blackened, clustered shadow of French Soldiers on horseback. A second later, both plunged into action. With the last of the trunks settled into the two long-boats, Remy ordered the three men to one boat while he and Logan took the other. The troops had just passed from being mere shadows to flesh and blood when they arrived at the mouth of the empty jetty. Their leader ordered them to dismount and follow as he stepped out onto the jetty. The boards groaned and creaked in uneasy protest under their boots as they made their way down the spine of weathered wood. Each set their eyes to the dark blindly as they shuffled carefully down the jetty as one step too far would literally sink them. However as they came to the end of the jetty, it was clear that whatever had come here was well and truly gone. Their commander gave an aggravated grunt as he eased his rifle from a pointed hold. One of the men questioned him in an anxious French accent.

"You do not think it was _him_ do you?"

The commanding soldier gave an audible scoff of disbelief as he turned to his inferior. A disbelieving scowl played across his face as he retorted.

"Do not be a fool Claude. _Le Diable Blanc _is a foolish Sea tale cooked up by love-sick ladies and half-mad ruffians!"

Claude gave an anxious glance about the docks he clutched his rifle so tightly it quivered in his hands. His commander gave a roll of his eyes as he set back down the jetty. The others followed in tow as he replied.

"They must have gone the other way-"

He broke off suddenly as he came to a stop. Some of the troops collided into each other behind him and once again as he pushed past them. He made sure to hide his footsteps by stepping carefully. Not a sound breathed as he, and two of his men, moved slowly towards the end of the jetty. The commander's eyes set intently upon the wooden planks as a frow marred his face. The rest of his troops stood still and silent at the mouth of the jetty and watched as the commander came to a stop about ten feet away from the edge. Two short-cut seconds later, he drew his firearm and aimed at the silver of space between the frailing wood. A blast erupted, causing his troops to flinch, leaving a small hole between the planks. The end of the rifle continued to smoke as he took a careful two steps away from the gunshot hole. The air hissed a second time as another bullet embedded itself into the jetty. He was careful to keep the shots evenly spaced so not to unsettle the jetty as he took aim and shot a second time. He was loading another bullet when that same sound pinched his ears. Carefully, he stepped towards the edge of the jetty with his firearm paused for a clear shot. However at the last minute, he turned back and fired a few feet beyond his first bullet hole. The turn of surprise caused even his men to jump but nothing else stirred with action. An irritated sigh rumbled through his throat as he stopped noisily back to the road. The dark encased the soldiers once more as they disappeared down the same narrow street they came.

As soon as the sound of hurried hooves became deaf on their ears, the men in the two boats below the feeble jetty emerged silently from beneath. However their stealthy disposition was, quite literally, shot when their Captain let out a pained grunt. James was at his Captain's side within moments.

"You alright boy?"

Remy let out a stiff chuckle at the title the older man gave him but it turned to another grunt of pain as he rested a hand to his shoulder. Anxious, James quickly pulled the young man's hand back only to give an aggravated growl in response. Blood stained the young man's palm and clotted the torn fabric of his coat as the bullet wound bled freely.

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_**Several hours later...**_

Rogue's eyes flew open at a startled pace. She sat up almost instantly but that did not mean she was immediately wake. She was rubbing the sleep from her eyes when the sound of a door knocking caught her ears a seconds time.

"_What in the world-?"_

A frustrated sigh escaped her as she slipped from the warmth of her own bed to the bitter cold of the floor. She shuddered a sigh as the cold floor boards caught her feet, causing her to jog quickly to the door. The knocker persisted impatiently even after she began to open the door. Rogue glared at the sudden candle light but swiftly turned her gaze to John as she whispered tiredly.

"John-? What are ya doin' here at this tahme-"

"I'm sorry Sheila but there ain't no time for explainations- I need you to come with me right this minute!"

It was then Rogue began to really take in John's appearance. Gone was the charismatic smile and laughing young man and in his stead stood a pale-faced man with unmasked anxiety. His blue eyes flickered anxiously as she questioned him. Worry swelled in her as she spoke.

"John- John what's happened?"

John let out a shaken sigh as he ran a hand down his weary face. He shook his head as he reached out to grasp her hand. His hold was gentle but a firmness remained as he spoke severely.

"_Please_- Rogue I- Just _trust me. _I need you to come with me. _Please?"_

Rogue bit down anxiously on her lower lip. All tiredness that had encrusted her eyes was gone as she silently considered his plead. She had been contemplating whether to trust John since her memories of that night began to surface. He was, after all, engrossed in the little lie that Lord Black had let slip. But one look into that anxious, pleading face was enough to set her distrust at ease. At least for the moment. With a silent sigh and slump of her shoulders, Rogue gave a light nod.

"Can ah get mah wrap first?"

John gave a hurried nod and let her return to the dark of her room. Rogue was quick to grasp her shawl from the end of her bed and wrap it around herself before joining John in the hallway. Taking her arm, he led them by candle light. Some thirty or so seconds later, they came to a stop at Lord Black's door. Rogue's heart began to rage against her chest as she stole a side-wards glance towards John. The worried Aussie gave her a sombre look as he squeezed her hand firmly.

"You're not faintish at the sight o' blood are you?" 

Rogue stiffled a gulp as she shook her head.

"Ah don't think so. Why?"

John turned his grave expression back to the door. The door swung open and closed gently behind them before he led her to the main chamber. Rogue's heart stilled for a half a moment before it began to beat like a crazed animal at the sight before her.

Bedridden, a familiar figure laid still against the hill of pillows that cluttered behind him. Bare from the waist up, Lord Black was tucked in comfortably to the bed but the idea of comfort was lost on Rogue as she took notice of the poorly applied bandaging around his chest and his left shoulder. Across his upper shoulder, blood seeped almost as freely as the sweat that drenched his paled face. Those ash and blood eyes turned swiftly to meet her suddenly anxious emerald gaze. A moment later, a frown marred his handsome face and he spoke. His voice struggled to be beyond a rasp.

"_Chére?_ What are y' doing here?"

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_**-smiles evilly- REVIEW!**_

_**-Gams **_


	15. By Oath and Ring

_**Hey everyone! VERY sorry for the long delay in this update. Been super busy with work, university and, well, life catching up to me and what not. **_

_**-Gams**_

_****_

**Chapter Fourteen – By Oath and Ring **

"_Chére? What are y' doing here?" _

Rogue felt what little colour in her face drain completely as she took in the sight of crimson that clotted the bandages around his left shoulder. She gulped back a gasp as she approached him at a careful pace. Not moments after he had spoken, Damien's eyes closed in unconsciousness and he was oblivious to the world. Meanwhile, John swiftly came to his aid; lightly smacking his Lord's face to keep him awake. Damien grunted irritably and made a face, muttering for John to stop his fussing. His servant hissed something only his master could hear but Rogue still strained to catch on her own ears. She was shaken out of her attempts when John swiftly turned to face her, his face a mess of worry and sweat.

"Can y' stitch up a wound Rogue?"

She was surprised when her voice didn't crack under her answer.

"Ah can. But Sarah knows more than ah-"

She barely had the chance to suggest Sarah as a better surgeon when John suddenly stood and approached her, frantically shaking his head. The bandages in his arms tumbled from his hands, only to be caught mid-fall as he replied with an exasperated sigh.

"No-! _No_ Rogue, we can't 'ave _no one_ know about this. Callin' Sarah- _or _a doctor would only raise suspicion we don't want girl."

At John's insistent- no, desperate look, there was no other answer but a nodding yes. John gave her a thankful look, and as he put a roll of bandage in her hand he grasped it a meaningful hold and squeezed. There a certainty in those blue eyes that he truly was grateful for her aid, though she didn't quite understand it herself.

"John why did y' bring her here?"

Both looked to John for the answer. The ginger-haired man ran a trembling hand over his sweat-drenched face and stared at his master with a severe expression before turning to face Rogue. His blue eyes were set ablaze with anxiety.

"_Please _Rogue, don't ask me how this came about- I _can't _tell you at the moment Sheila an' I promise I will when th' time's right. But right now I am _begging you_ to help him-"

Rogue set a comforting hand on John's arm and held it firmly. She locked her gaze with his, leaving him no chance of evading her determined stare.

"He'll be_ alright_ John. Ah promise ah'll do what ah can."

John gave her the most grateful look as he took her hand and squeezed it in thanks. With that said, he promised to stand guard while she tended to his master. He closed the door gently behind him as Rogue went about getting the supplies John had laid out on a small table beside the bed. By candle light it wasn't the easiest to see the wound. She removed the feeble bandages only to find that whoever had attempted to stitch the wound back together had done a poor job. Every stitch was torn and the wound bled angrily through the bandages.

Rogue heaved an irritated sigh.

"Trust _you_ to tear ever the poorest of stitches!"

Though she couldn't really tell, given _Damien's_ state of half-unconsciousness, but she could've sworn she had seen a smirk spread across his lips.

An hour later, after cleaning the wound and pouring some alcohol over it to disinfect it, she began to stitch the _bullet wound_ back together. She had no doubt that it had come from a bullet and swore she would find out just _how _the bullet ended up in her fiancée's arm in the first place as soon as he was conscious. Six stitches later, Rogue was bandaging the now-stable wound when Damien began to stir and groan. His unusual eyes blinked several times before opening sluggishly. It was a few minutes before he managed the strength to talk, or more, rasp.

"_Merci chére._..Y' did a better job dan de scourge who tried t' mend it first..."

Rogue squeezed the water out of a clean, wet cloth before sitting it on his forehead. A fever had taken him causing his skin to burn like hot coal and sweat to run down in sheets. It was so surreal to see the ever-smirking Casanova-pretender so vulnerable but nevertheless, she could not help being angry with him. He had done nothing but give her sugar-coated lies, gained her trust that was hardly ever won, and for what? To have her stitch up his wounds as well as he stitched up the truth in lies?

What had he done to bring this on himself?

Rogue angrily dunked the wet-logged cloth into the water basin once more. She could not help the cold in her voice.

"Ah imagine the _scourge _who did the first set o' stitches found a _bullet_ before sewin' yah up, am ah right?"

Even in the midst of fever and wounded, he managed to turn away his gaze as he replied gently. That ever-present charm divulged in his now-raspy voice as he tried to keep a smirk in place.

"Wouldn't dream o' borin' y' wit' de _how I-got-dis-scar_ story _chére_..."

Rogue removed the wet cloth with ruthless haste. She was _sick _of his endless dead-end answers; avoiding the truth at every crucial moment. A severe frown creased her brow as she glared him down.

"Yah honestly cannot answer _any _question without some damned _joke _or just evading the question completely, can yah?"

Remy turned back to face her. Even in the struggling candle light, he could tell her face was flushed; her green eyes bright and her expression almost murderous. It was probably the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And he had seen his fair share of murderous looking women. But amongst the anger and behind the harsh expression there was definite edge of hurt. She was angry and had every right to be but she was also hurt. Her anger he could take but her feeling hurt by him...

It took all of his already shaky strength to sit up enough so that he could face her. Before she could move away, he reached out to grasp her hand. She froze visibly in his hold, her anger lifting to halt as she stared at him in bemused surprise. And then the surprise shattered and she was threatening to leave. With little strength, he held firm and managed to rasp...

"Rogue _please_..."

She froze again but hesitated to look at him. Finally, when he did nothing but hold her hand and she did not move, she gave a deep-held sigh. She turned slowly, her gaze hesitantly meeting his as flashes of hurt and resentment flashed across her face. He wielded his hold on her to his advantage and spoke.

"I know y' have little reason t' trust _moi, mais_ I give y' my word dat I will tell y' all y' want t' know after we be married. It is..._dangerous_ t' tell y' at de present time. Once we leave y' Grandfather _et_ England behind...I will tell y'. _Je vous donne ma parole d'honneur."_ (I give you my word of honour)

Rogue stared down on him with a muddled look of uncertainty and bemusement. Though she was still mad at him and the conditions of his promise were all the more infuriating, it was better than a blatant refusal to hone up to telling her the truth. It was a week till the wedding, so it would not be a prolonged wait. She heaved a resigned sigh and nodded. Only then did he release her hand. With her newly freed hand, she set the wet cloth on his forehead again and began to trace it over each side of his face.

"It's a deal then ah suppose."

Remy managed a silent nod as he watched her through her ministrations. It was a few more minutes before Remy- or more, Remy's pride had decided that he had rested enough. He hauled himself up to a more seated position as he spoke, trying his best to hold back the pain in his voice.

"_Here_- I have somet'ing for y' _chére_- _eugh!"_

He winced and clutched his aching shoulder, his teeth bared and grit together to force back the pain. Rogue eased him back against the hill of pillows behind him and bid him to lie back. He resisted at first of course.

"I can manage _chére_,-"

Rogue gave an irritated sigh as she more forcefully pushed him lie back again.

"_You _can barely manage t' sit up let alone stand. Now _lie back_ and ah will get whatever it is ya need."

He gave in reluctantly with an irritated sigh of his own. When he finally lay back in his bed however, Rogue realised the blood clotting in the fresh bandages. With tender hands, she unrolled the bandages enough for her to lift the rest to look at the wound. An exasperated sigh escaped her.

"Ya have torn some of the stitches jus' by sittin' up. Ah have t' do them _again."_

It was his opportunity to sigh with irritation but nevertheless, he complied to sit still as she removed the last of the bandages. She cleaned the blood and took up a needle and thread again. He didn't so much as flinch but he did draw sharp breath and she noticed no matter how good he was at silencing his pain. She continued to sew together the wound as she spoke calmly.

"Perhaps we should talk more, distract ya from the pain."

He gave a grunt of acknowledgement as he took another deep breath. His gaze turned to the canopy drapes above as he replied.

"What would y' like t' talk about _chére_?"

Rogue was silent a moment. She bit down lightly on her lower lip as she pulled the string tight between her fingers. She was very tempted to ask one of the millions of questions she had about him but she knew, given their bargain, anything she wished to know about _him_ would come under the conditions she agreed to. It was not a wise topic to touch upon. So instead she shrugged and told him to pick a topic. A few moments later, he replied.

"Where did y' learn t' tend t' wounds? Y' _are _a lady of station. It is an..._unusual_ quality. Not dat I am complaining of course..."

Rogue raised a brow at him incredulously.

"That's hardly a distractin' conversation topic..."

"_Mais_ unless y' can t'ink of a better subject, here de conversation lies..."

She could only nod. It was true enough.

"Sarah taught me a few things over the years. Alex and Scott have enough scars between them from working on the estate t' provide adequate practice. And..."

She trailed off as an old memory flashed across her mind. Though slightly blurred and light, she recognised her mother's features by the golden hue of her hair and the glow of her green eyes. Her mouth moved as she spoke but her words, long forgotten and therefore deaf on Rogue's ears, were lost. And yet it was thanks to her mother that she knew what stitch was the most secure, what would allow less of a scar to form...

When she did not reply, Remy urged her to go on.

"And, _chére?"_

Rogue broke from her trail of thoughts, clearing her throat as she finished the last stitch.

"Nothing."

She avoided Remy's inquisitive look.

"_Non._ _S'il vous plait, _allez sur." ( No. Please, go on)

He seemed more inclined to speak French in his weakened state, she mused observantly. She stilled the bandage in her hand as she hesitated to continue. Finally, she gave a resigned nod and told him.

"Ah remember mah mother showin' meh how t' stitch a deep gash on mah knee when ah was a child. She showed meh how t' make sure it wouldn't tear..."

She caught him staring at her with those endless pools of red-on-black eyes as she continued to secure the bandages around his shoulder. Her voice turned cold as she tried to ignore his stare.

"_Or_ ah _thought_ she did. Ya tore through these quicker than the _scourge's_ handiwork..."

Before she could push the subject aside, his hand caught hers as it withdrew from his fixed bandages. Their eyes met instantly, cutting her words short. Rogue felt a blush creep up her neck as he began to draw circles on the back of her hand while he spoke softly.

"_Merci chére._ Y' _Mére_ _did_ teach y' well..."

The movement of his fingers against her skin slowed and loosened as he began to lose consciousness again. Rogue loosened her hand from his and insisted that he go to sleep. But the stubborn Lord shook his head, though it caused him to sink further into exhaustion. Remy managed to raise his hand high enough to point out into the shadow-clad room and rasp a few broken words.

"...De chair...my coat...left pocket, dere's somet'ing in dere f' y'..."

Complying with his sluggish directions, Rogue picked up the coat off the back of the chair. It took a moment to find a pocket and when she did, she heard a distinctive tinkling sound; of metal lightly knocking against metal. Digging her hand into the pocket, she instantly grasped one of two objects. One was a gold pocket watch on a heavy chain, which explained the light tinkling sound. With her back to _Lord Damien,_ Rogue took the small chance to open the pocket watch. Most men who carried pocket watches usually had their name or initials inscribed upon the lid or a miniature painting inside. And surely enough, inscribed on the inside of the lid was a delicate inscription of two sets of initials.

_**J.N.L**_

_**R.E.L.**_

She couldn't make out any name except...

"_Remy..."_

"_Chére_...have y' found it? Dere should be a small box..." 

Rogue flinched in surprise. She managed to slip the pocket watch back into the pocket without being noticeably guilty of snooping. Surely enough, her fingers landed on a small box. She pulled it out swiftly only to pause as soon as she set her eyes on it.

It was sheathed in black velvet on the top and bottom, while two delicately engraved plates of silver lined the edges. Rogue felt her heart stop and start with realisation and a sudden rush of anxiety.

There was no denying its contents.

"_Chére_, bring it here _s'il vous plait_..."

With numb fingers and a racing heart, Rogue slowly traced her steps back to the bed where he lay with a hand outstretched to take the box. She placed it in his hand without so much as a blink or a word. He told her to sit and only once she was seated beside him on the bed did he open the box.

Rogue felt what air left in her lungs become lodged in her throat.

Cushioned in its velvet hold, laid a jewelled ring; a round-cut ruby surrounded by a row of smaller diamonds, set on a gold band. It was singularly the most beautiful ring she had seen and was so entranced by it that she hardly registered it when he took off the engagement ring Aunt Carriehad _chosen on her behalf_ and replaced it with this one. It was slipped on her ring finger to a perfect fit.

"It was _ma Mére's _engagement ring,_ et_ _ma Grandmére's _before dat..."

Rogue broke from her trance of admiration to fasten her gaze on him. Though visibly weakened, those red-on-black eyes still burned with life like no other. It was then Rogue realised the similarity between the red hue of the ruby and the pair of eyes set intently on her. She managed to avert her gaze back to the _real_ ruby and gingerly ran a finger over it. Her voice barely managed to whisper.

"It's beautiful..."

The faintest of smiles spread across his paled face and it made Rogue ache with guilt for having ever been so angry with him earlier while he was in such a state. To further the number of surprises this night, he reached out and grasped her ringed finger and raised it to his lips. He kissed it tenderly, causing a number of chills to course over her skin.

"It seems only fitting...dat de woman I marry...mus' carry de same ring..."

He held her hand to his mouth still as he spoke. Whether he did it because he hadn't the strength to let go or he didn't _want _to let go she was left unsure of. It wasn't possible to find out, for not a moment later he lost all consciousness and closed his weary eyes in sleep. Rogue carefully took back her ring-branded hand and tucked the bed covers over his deeply sleeping form.

Only then did she fully take in what he had just given her.

He had given her a ring that had been passed down from the wives of his family, a valued family heirloom that he, for whatever reason, felt she was entitled to. He had _replaced_ a perfectly suitable engagement ring to fit one that was worth more in sentimental value than the other. _She _who was virtually a stranger to him!

Rogue heaved a shaky sigh and held her hand up to inspect the ring. Her emotions warred against each other within her as she stared into its ruby's depths and then turned to look at her sleeping fiancée. Without hesitation, she reached out and stroked the side of his face. Something inside soften but quickly grew cold as she took everything that had happened and what he had just given into account. She sighed despairingly.

"If only ah could trust you...then maybe this would've been a perfect memory for us..."

She held fast to her suspicions and mistrust of his intentions but even so, she felt a part of her had forgiven him for his withholding of truths. Nevertheless, she would still hold him to his oath and as soon they were free of her grandfather and England's shores were no longer visible, she would get her answers and know just what this _Damien Black _imposter was up to.

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_**I know, I know. It's been years and I've been horrible updating this! Hope this kinda made up for it!**_

_**REVIEW PLEASE! Thanks!**_

_**-Gams **_


	16. Swear Loyalty

_**Chapter Fifteen – Swear Loyalty **_

Scott heaved a frustrated sigh and wiped the sweat off his brow. Cleaning the hooves of the horses was an all-day job and an exhausting one at that. He had been taught to handle the task when he was a young boy and had learnt the skill well enough to do it without thinking. The task of removing the stones and whatever else got under the horses' hooves was a repetitive task and like clock-work he worked in moderate silence with only the sound of a horse huffing in his or her own disapproval to keep him company. However, over the more recent years, he had come to use the time to tend to his inner thoughts and turmoils. Today, thoughts and turmoil stood hand-in-hand in a vice-like grip and he vented his frustrations with the flick of his wrist. He carved the rubble and snow with a determined flick of his wrist and by the firm grip of his hand on the hoof pick. The repetitiveness barely fazed him as he tended to his black mood with the same pick, cleaning out the troubled thoughts that had lodged themselves into the walls of his mind. However on top of the many issues weighing on his mind, one in particular stuck out the most.

Rogue was to marry Lord Black tomorrow and he was completely helpless to stop it.

He had no rank, no power on his side, no money or particular influence on those who had decided on the affair. He was nothing more than a disagreeing bystander who could do nothing but watch as his dearest _little sister_ married a man she hardly knew. And watch as she and her husband drove away, knowing with certainty that he and the rest of their little mismatched family would never see her again.

It was more than he could stand.

He was still lost in his own dark musings when Éowyn gave a light whinny, stirring him into reality again with a start. He realised the hoof between his hands was clean and placed it down so that Éowyn could eat from the bucket of food in balanced peace. However when the dark beauty began to anxiously trot back and forth on her now-clean hooves, he stopped to turn only to find a new comer in the stables.

"_Bonsoir Monsieur Summers_." (Good evening)

Scott tried to hold back a blatant glare but only managed to scowl as he watched Lord Damien Black step into the stables and out of the cold evening air.

"Sir."

He managed to grunt a response. He had little patience to play the respectful servant. So he picked up a container of saddle polish and a rag and began to shine one of the saddles placed over the low stable fence. Though Scott didn't turn his back on him, he wasn't forced to look directly at the conceited Lord while he was preoccupied. He looked quite the part of a wounded soldier with his arm in a sling and a heavy coat draped over his shoulders. It caused Scott to sneer inwardly.

"_Probably hurt himself while gambling away Rogue's inheritance..." _

There had been quite a commotion in the upper levels of the manor when Lord Black arrived the other morning with his arm in a sling and his face quite discoloured with fatigue. Of course, as Sarah had whispered to him that afternoon, he had been doing his best to hold it back. Curiously _no one_ had seen nor heard him arrive and upon being asked what had happened to him, the cad had the nerve to joke and say he had been having _a little too much fun_ in Paris and avoided giving a _real _answer all together. And the Delmars- the most _contemptuous beings to walk the planet-_ had let it go with another question asked. It only raised Scott's ill suspicions of this _Lord Damien Black._

"She is quite _la beauté noire, non_? I can see why y' picked her for_ mon chére_. Dey suite each other so. Isn't dat right _belle noire?" _(Black Beauty)

The young Lord had only his right hand to put to use and it was with it he picked up the course, bristle brush and began to stroke Éowyn's velvet coat. He spoke to the horse in whispers of French that soothed the mare's anxiousness. Though Scott could not see why, the young mare had taken a liking to the man.

"_A snake that charms a horse. Unbelievable."_

Scott realised he was practically carving the rag into the leather of the saddle. He angrily nodded and went about putting the over-shined saddled away.

He had been suspicious when Lord Black had appeared so suddenly on their doorstep. The Master's distain for the French had been _most _clear, so it was a little more than a wonder when this infuriating young Frenchman came gallivanting through the doors. But when he had found out about the bargain the two opposing men had made, he had sworn to hate the man entirely. The idea of Rogue marrying a self-absorbed fool like Lord Black was maddening enough but for her to be the _prize_ from a gamble of cards was infuriating.

The rag, he realised, was still in his hand when he turned back to the invading nobleman. He watched as he stroked the white stripe that coursed between the mare's big, dark eyes. Éowyn seemed to nod her head in approval as she brushed her nose against the side of his face. Her admirer gave a husky chuckle and stroked her head, unfazed by the smudge on his face as he whispered.

"Y' a _trés magnifique creature. _Jus' like y' mistress, _non_?" (magnificent creature)

Scott clenched the rag still lodged his hands and it winced as he twisted it between his fingers.

He couldn't stand idly by anymore.

Fuelled with anger and distain, Scott flung the rag to the ground at the Lord's feet, causing him to turn in mild surprise. A perplexed frown spread across Lord Black's face as Scott glared blatantly back. Before he could ask what was wrong, Scott took three forceful strides towards the confused Lord and levelled his glare with his perplexed look. He poked his index violently in the air between them as he spoke.

"_You arrogant bastard-"_

Remy raises his free hand in defence but did not coil away in alarm at Scott's actions. By all means, he was the epitome of calm and reason with a half smirk.

"Now, now _mon jeune ami_, if I have said anyt'ing to offend y'-"

If it weren't for the insufferable smirk across the man's face, Scott may have held back but instead his anger intensified. The moment of silence broke with a bellowing yell, almost matching the anger of the wilful gale of wind howling outside.

"Rogue is _not_ just a_ creature _to be bargained with or- or admired like a _prized mare!"_

Scott felt tremors wreck through his body as the anger took full hold of his senses. He was _so close_ to throttling the fool of a man before him. Only the will to have his say kept him from knocking the man to the ground. And the small feeling of dishonour he knew would feel if he struck a wounded man down. He took deep, angry breaths as he waited for the strangely un-baffled Lord to reply. He kept his voice even and cool, that smirk dwindling to a more severe expression as he tried to reason with the angry Stable Keeper.

"Y' have _moi_ wrong Monsieur Summers. _Mon ami_, y' mus' not-"

The retort snapped from his lips.

"_Do not presume me your friend! _I know _very _well of your intentions towards Ro- _Miss D'ancanto_ and I tell you now I will not stand and watch her be bartered for coin like a slave!"

Scott quenched the sharp pang of relief and horror that stabbed his chest as he continued on. Once he started, he knew he could not stop.

"You are a _scoundrel _sir! A scoundrel with not an inkling of understanding of how much you wrong that girl! She was much happier and _certainly_ better off before you came here and so _unrightfully _claimed her as your own-"

"I fail to see how y' can y' say dat she has been _happy_ or _'better off'_ dese past ten years here."

Scott hesitated. True, as his mind reeled back to the years before, he may have overstepped in saying she was ever 'happy' here. But she had had Alex, Sarah, Jean and himself to hold her up whenever she fell. He ran a hand over his face as he slowly wandered towards the black mare. He saw his own face in those dark eyes and to be honest, he didn't like what he saw. Heaving an aggravated sigh, he refused to meet Lord Black's face as he spoke. He managed to contain his anger again.

"I do not pretend to think that she has been happy here...with the way _he_ treats her..."

Lord Delmar's sneering face appeared in his mind only to be contorted into an uglier, more ghoulish version of him. The rage within him sparked with fire again as he turned and glared at whom he believed to be the lesser of two evils.

"But at least she always had her _true friends_ to put her back together whenever he tore her apart!"

He strode back angrily to face Lord Black and met him at full height with a defiantly clenched jaw. His eyes set to face those demonic eyes that stared back as unreadable as his expression.

"_Who_ will be there now _huh_? You _sir_?"

His tone of voice took a hint of venom and mockery as he continued to jab with his words.

"Who will be her confidant? You? How can you be when she barely trust you as it is?"

The Lord didn't so much as flinch, so he continued to cut him down in words.

"Who will keep her safe? You? The man who _allowed_ her to be left alone for that- _that Monster-!" _

He pointed towards the manor. Its gothic, black form peeked in from between the open stable doors and the falling snow.

"-To beat to a _bloody pulp?"_

A silence swelled, blistering with his resentment and despair. His tone of voice began to lose steam as the despair of inevitability sunk in. He heaved a few heavy breaths of air, causing tuffs of mist to erupt from his lips. His tone mellowed to a moderate, cold voice full of both bitterness and grief.

"Who will console her when her mind grows dark with her old demons? You? A man she hardly knows because he does not care to confide his own demons in her?" 

Scott woefully shook his head as his gaze shifted sluggishly to the stable floor. Dismayed, he shrugged his shoulders helplessly before giving the last of his berating lecture.

"With all due respect, sir, I have known her these past ten years. My brother and I, Miss Grey and Miss Sarah have all taken a hand in raising her to who she is now. _And_ now- _thanks to you_, she is being taken away from those who would call her sister and all that she has known. You, a man who struck a bargain for a bought and paid for bride..."

Scott's anger had taken its final leap, leaving him shaken and exhausted. All the while he berated and slandered him, Lord Black hadn't so much as open his mouth to protest let alone call for his manservant to have him dragged off to be punished or dismissed for his actions. No, the man remained as silent and void of all emotion until the very end of his verbal assault. Finally, the strange young man heaved what Scott could only assume was a defeated sigh. Those strange red-on-black eyes filled with an emotion he daren't name...

Could it really be that the selfish fop he suspected him to be was really capable of guilt?

The man met his gaze evenly, his expression severe and clear of that infuriating smile.

"Y' struck every word true _Monsieur Summers_. Every word y' said, I cannot rebuke..."

Scott managed to stare in utter bewilderment only to frown with suspicion as he waited for the man to continue.

"I cannot apologize enough for de trouble dat I have provoked. _Mais_ what y' mus' understand is dat I have every intention of rectifying what I have done wrong by Rogue."

Scott raised a sceptical brow.

"You...you are being honest...?" 

The man nodded most severely. Even Scott, who had been determined to hate and distrust this man with every fibre of his being, could not help but believe his seriousness. But he could barely manage to question him in his bemusement. The man must have taken his baffled silence for distrust, for he continued.

"I promise y' Scott, I will do everyt'ing in my power to protect her and make her happy. I will put _everyt'ing_ right and I will be there for her-"

It was all too good to be true. So suddenly the veil of surprise and confusion was lifted only for Scott to feel suspicion grow in its place. With a furrowed brow, he eyed the man before him with a discerning scowl.

"How can I trust your word after all that has happened? All that has happened to _her-"_

He cut him off sharply.

"I can't make up y' mind for y' _mon ami. _Either y'_ can't_ or y' can_._ _Mais_ I _can_ promise dat all will become clearer in de days to come."

"What are you saying sir-?"

That infuriating smirk returned, full-blown as a devious glint of malice flickered slyly in those strange eyes.

"I will unleash a most _méritant_ _revenge _on our _dear_ Master of the house. _Mais_ it will require _time_ _et, _if y' be willin', you and your friends' help." (deserving revenge) 

Scott's brow furrowed in utter confusion. He barely managed a reply, he was so confused.

"What-? What could you possibly-"

Before he could stutter any more confused words, the strange man approached him until their faces were but an inch apart. Those hypnotic eyes were set a blazed as he took a look about their surroundings and raised his free-hand to silence him. It became clear that he was checking in case anyone was there to eaves drop on what he was about to say. Scott made sure to keep his voice down as he whispered.

"What is-"

Lord Black put a hand to his own lips in an insistent action to be quiet. He kept his eyes to the stable doors as he spoke.

"_Someone_ be listenin' t' our little conversation..."

A tense, nerve wrecking couple of seconds passed before the Lord expressed for Scott to keep quiet and follow. Scott followed like a blind dog; unsure but helpless to follow. They approached the open stable doors, their footsteps light and muffled on the hay-cluttered floor. Lord Black turned to face Scott and raised three fingers as he mouthed silently _'on-the-count-of-three.'_ Scott gave a curt nod.

_One...Two...Three!_

They both leapt out at the unsuspecting figure. With two against one (even if one was injured), it was easy to overpower their eavesdropping friend. The resident snitch fell to the floor with a painful cry only to be muffled by Lord Black's gloved hand. With Scott holding him down with his own weight, the skulking old man was rendered immobile even with his pathetic attempts to pull free.

"What are we going to do with him now?"

Lord Black instructed him to find some rope and a rag while _he_ held the butler down. Scott dashed into the Stable and returned within a few seconds. With Lord Black injured, he was made to tie Roy's hands behind his back and (with a dark sense of enjoyment) stuffed the saddle polish-stained rag in his mouth. They ignored his muffled angry cries for help and at Lord Black's insistence, pulled him into the stable and closed the doors.

"Is dere anywhere we can put him where he won't be discovered?"

Scott actually smiled.

"I have the _perfect_ place."

They managed to drag the old man to an old basket trunk at the back of the stable where a particularly reeking pile of horse manure stood. Scott was forced to pick him up and put his surprisingly heavy form into the trunk but it was worth the effort. He took dark satisfaction in seeing the anger wipe clean off the old man's face and the sheet of fear that replaced it when Lord Black took a concealed pistol from his coat. Fearing he was about to be shot, Roy just about wailed in fear before the Lord struck him over the head with it instead His unconscious form slumped into the trunk as they pulled the lid shut. It would be a while before anyone thought to find him and so with the deed done, the two men made their way back to front of the stable.

While Scott shifted the disturbed snow and dirt to hide their mingled tracks, Remy stood leant against the stable doors, watching pensively. When he finished hiding the traces of the scuffle, he turned to Lord Black with a guilty expression. Though he had always hated Roy for all his snooping and his insufferable nature, he didn't care to be caught out as his attacker. Roy held more favour with the Master than all the servants combined. He turned to the young Lord for answers.

"What are we to do? We can't just...just _leave him_ in there."

Lord Black gave a dark chuckle.

"_Now _y' feel sorry for his misfortune Monsieur Summers?"

Scott shook his head.

"I'm more concerned about the search party that will come looking for him. What do you suppose to do?"

It was several moments before Scott got a reply. Remy's expression took a sober, hardened look as he stared pensively at the manor looming over them. The night had come and blackened the sky. There was only the moon and the light of the lantern in the stable to light their path. The snow began to fall again when finally, he spoke.

"We will _leave _our _dear Monsieur Roy _in his new _residence _until de opportune moment. _Now_ I have a proposition for y'. _Mais_ y' _must swear_ fealty t'_ moi_ first."

His voice held a playful note while mentioning Roy's fate but it was quick to take a severe tone that made Scott consider him seriously. But he was still so confused by what had happened in such little time. His brow knitted with suspicion again as he questioned the strange Lord.

"_Who_ are you really? You can't really be a _Lord_. I know Lords, I've seen their nature. And you are definitely _not_ like any-"

The supposed-Lord gave the first sign of irritation Scott had ever seen on his face. He reached for Scott's collar and drew him in so that they were face to face and for a man with the use of just one arm, he was exceptionally strong. Scott dared not to pull out of the main's vice-like hold but he was taken aback by the intensity across the man's face. However it was then he finally saw what kindled so brightly in those peculiar eyes...

...Desperation.

"Y' _must _swear dat what I tell y', y' will not breathe a word to Rogue about nor anyone else until I give y' permission. Do y' swear?"

Scott gave him an incredulous look.

"You are _crazy_ aren't you?"

He ignored his statement and continued to press him.

"Do y' _swear_?"

A moment or two passed. Remy took it as hesitation.

"Y' are in love wit' Lady Jean Grey, _oui?"_

Scott looked quite take aback. And that was an understatement.

"How do you-"

Remy shook his head, his irritation growing at the other man's scepticism.

"Dat's not important- M' point is, y' would do any'ting t' be wit' her, _oui?"_

Scott managed to nod silently.

"Anything."

A smile replaced the annoyance across Lord Black's face.

"Well, dere I may be able t' help y'. _Mais, _first y' mus' pledge loyalty t' _moi_ _et _promise t' keep quiet. Otherwise I can't guarantee I can help y' et y' _femme._ Agreed?"

To prove good faith, he released Scott from his vice-hold. It was a little while before Scott managed to speak with some semblance of his resolve back. His expression hardened while a stern tone gave edge to his voice.

"If you will first swear something else to _me, my Lord."_

Remy's expression loosened its hard exterior and in its place the sincerest of expressions spread across his features. He clutched Scott's shoulder in a vice-like grasp and spoke so genuinely that Scott was almost certain that it was not the same man he had berated as a Rogue.

"If it is to be true to your _seour_, den by all dat I hold dear, I _swear _dat I will do everyt'ing in my power t' make her happy_ et _keep her trust. _Mais_ right now, I have t' keep her in de dark. I have good reason _et _I wouldn't if it wasn't _absolutely important._"

It was several agonizing moments before Scott replied.

"Then I swear it that I will hold whatever you tell me in secret."

Lord Black gave him an almost affectionate shake to the shoulder and smiled.

"_Bien._ Now, we have only a few hours on our side _et _dere is much t' be done. Y' mus' come wi't_ moi_ now-" (Good)

Lord Black made to walk off but Scott stood rooted on the spot. When the younger man did not follow, Lord Black turned and gave an exasperated sigh.

"Dere is no time for second t'oughts_ mon ami!"_

Scott continued to stay rooted to the spot.

"First tell me who you _really _are. I will not follow a man who I don't know. You're not a Lord. Then what are you?"

A handsome smirk spread across _Lord Black's _face. He bowed dramatically and tipped an invisible hat as he replied as if he were an actor introducing himself on the stage.

"_Je m'appelle Remy Etienne LeBeau_. _Captain_ of de Devil's Revenge. Pirate et t'ief at y' service!"

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**_

_**Can you IMAGINE the look on dear Scott Summer's face?**_

_**I don't usually enjoy writing Scott Summers' character (being that I always seem to make him a cheating bastard) but he's kinda growing on me in this.**_

_**Thanks for all the awesome reviews guys! Really appreciate it! Keep them coming!**_

_**-Gams**_


	17. Pending Fate

_**Chapter Sixteen – Pending Fate**_

Rogue pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she leant closer to the frosted window panels. Her breath imprinted against the glass, becoming luminous in the candle light. She scrawled meaningless scribbles on it with her chilled fingers and stared out aimlessly into the moon-bathed night. It was a barren ice land outside and with the snow holding off for the moment and as still and silent as a graveyard.

_Lord_, did she feel like she was living in one.

Tomorrow was her wedding day and every preparation had been made. The servants of the manor had not had a moment's rest in the hasty attempt to make the manor suitable for a wedding reception. The old snitch of a butler Roy had hardly had the chance to snoop so much as a scrap of news to report to his master while Aunt Carrie bossed him about the manor. Scott and Alex had had a good chuckle about the butler's misfortunes.

The food was prepared down to the very last strawberry tart that wouldn't be served until _after_ the wedding party had left. The flowers were freezing in bouquets about the manor in hideously overdone displays. The dresses for her bridesmaids had been bought and sewn to each silly goose's own specific physiques. The guest list consisted of half of London's high society, all of which Rogue knew little of and cared little for, had been sent for by _personal_ invitation _by yours truly_. The decorations for the reception were, of course, to her aunt's decisiveness and were as Rogue sat scribbling on window panels, being set up in the ball room. The mad frenzy could be heard even from Rogue's isolated cage.

Rogue heaved a deep sigh as she gave up on her panel scribbling.

"Well...this is _hardly_ the wedding ah envisioned as a child..."

She had had practically _nothing_ to do with the preparations and frankly, she was rather glad of it. It had never been part of her ideas to go to such extravagant lengths for a wedding, let alone one born of an arranged marriage. She had hoped for a small, private service in the church only to be whisked off as soon as _Lord Black _paid her Grandfather's ridiculous price. But alas, that was not to be. The wedding was almost entirely of Aunt Carrie's devising. All except for the wedding gown that now hung on a hook on Rogue's closet door.

The memory of its purchase caused a small, amused smile to spread across Rogue's lips. When the dress maker came to Delmar Manor, Jean had been mercifully present and like an angel had insisted on _helping_ her Aunt pick out the colour and style. She had _oohed _and _ahhed _at the colour in front of Aunt Carrie and Lord Delmar until finally she won the reluctant two into agreeing to the commission. It was probably the only thing Rogue could say she could live with in her memory of her wedding day. And it was not just because her Aunt secretly disliked it that she was happy to wear it. It was a royal, dark purple colour made of raw silk, with a low shoulder-line and long muslin under-sleaves that poke out from the elbow-length jacket. And a train of silk that would trail behind from the shoulders. It was a bold colour, and that, in Aunt Carrie's opinion, was _highly inappropriate. _ But the old bat had it in her mind that should Jean Grey or _any _of her youthful superiors be disgruntled with her _old fashioned senses, _that she may as well be a hermit from society. And that didn't sit well with her at all.

Rogue continued to smile lightly as she turned to look at her little revenge hung carefully from the closet door. She anticipated to shock more than a few people with her choice of wedding gown.

"That's _somethin'_ to look forward to..." 

Without warning her eyes suddenly grew irritated and glossy with tears that she held back but a blink from bursting. Until today, she had gone on with life as usual (save for avoiding a certain red-on-black eyed man at all costs). She went riding when it was not snowing. She sat with Sarah by the fire in her quarters and talked endlessly of whatever Alex and/or Scott had done to amuse them. She, Scott and Alex would go to their old haunts of the pastures nearby... and all the while they all secretly realised that their time together, their _life _together as a family of friends, was coming to an end...

Shaking her head, Rogue willed away her tears. Stubbornly, she refused to let it get to her. As much as she was glad to be leaving her grandfather and aunt behind, it tore her in two to leave her friends. She had no idea if she would ever see them again. And the realisation that it was her last night in the place she had so despised and reluctantly called home these past ten years nearly was akin to the feeling of standing on a cliff's edge. The fluttery, queasy feeling in her stomach made her both giddy and terribly anxious at once. And though she feared the fall, there was no choice but to jump.

She let a deep breath escape her lips and closed her eyes. For right now, she was merely lingering on the edge of her fate. And it was a maddening feeling. But so was another matter that rattled around in her mind.

After examining _Lord Black's_ pocket watch, the initials had become burnt into her mind and continued to burn as she itched to know whose initials they were. She was now certain that Lord Black's real name was _Remy_ as John had let slip. His initials _had _to be _R.E.L. _but there was no way of knowing his full name without asking. And she knew that whatever _Remy_ was hiding, his name was surely a part of it.

Rogue heaved a frustrated sigh as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Damned, lying -_ow!_"

She looked down to find that her new engagement ring had snagged on the frail fabric of her nightgown, scratching her skin in the process. Rogue glared down at the offending jewel for a moment or two but it soon softened to a sarcastic smile. She rolled her eyes as she muttered sarcastically.

"Well, he may not be _real._ But at least ah know _the ring _is."

She stretched her hand out and set her gaze upon the ruby once more. It was still the most beautiful thing she had seen. And against her better judgement, she had grown quite attached to it. So much that when she did not wear it, it was like she had lost something that was a part of her.

The thought made her frown.

"Gettin' attached to a gift from a man that lies to mah face about who he is."

She slumped helplessly against the window seat as another sigh, though more defeated, escaped her. For days she had been at war with herself. Her head told her to hate and distrust this _Remy_ but another part of her, the part that beat between her breasts, told her something entirely different.

A bitter laugh forced its way through her lips.

"This isn't the kind of pre-wedding jitters ah thought ah'd be havin' either..."

A gentle knock on the door sprung her from her turbulent thoughts. Rogue quickly made her way across the dim-lit room and put her ear to the door. Only after Sarah spoke her name through the door did she open it. Sarah's petite frame was hidden behind a large box that she struggled to walk through the door. Rogue's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What's all this Sarah?"

The blue-eyed woman gave a sly smile as she shuffled over to the bed and placed the crafted wooden box down. She urged her friend to come sit with her as she made herself comfortable and adjusted the shawl around her shoulders. Only when they were both comfortably seated around the box did Sarah speak. A particularly pleased smile was spread across her freckled face, causing Rogue to wonder.

"Alright. Now, _please_ don't be mad and don't be worried. I was very careful and brought this down from the attic when everyone was running about the house with the preparations."

Rogue still wore a confused look as she drifted her gaze from the Sarah, to the box and a back again.

"Alright... What's in the box?"

Sarah beamed a proud smile.

"Close your eyes first."

"Sarah, ah-"

"Oh _please_, just this once?"

At the pleading look in her friend's bright blue eyes, Rogue heaved a defeated sigh and nodded. She closed her eyes. There was the sound of a key turning and then a creaking noise followed by Sarah blowing what Rogue supposed was dust. A minute later, Sarah spoke.

"Alright- Open!"

Rogue stared down into the contents of the box. There were many little things stored within it, little knick-knacks and such. There were a few letters wrapped neatly in a piece of blue ribbon, a few glass perfume bottles all covered in dust and a few other trinkets. But what caught Rogue's attention the most was a small silver jewellery box. She pulled it out carefully. When she opened it, she was pleasantly surprised to find a string of gray pearls curled neatly into the circular case. Rogue pulled the delicate necklace out and gently smoothed her fingers over them. They grew shinier as her fingers polished off the dust.

She held it up to inspect in the light, a slight smile across her lips.

"Ya found this in the attic? Who would put them away..."

She trailed off when she realised Sarah's expression. Her eyes were glossy and full of mixed emotions. She reached into the box and pulled out the small bundle of letters as she spoke softly.

"Read the first one Rogue..."

Rogue did as she was asked and unfolded the first letter. It was worn and yellow with age but the writing was still clear to read...and it caused chills to run over Rogue's skin. She managed to stutter a few words out loud in a distant, soft tone of voice.

"Dearest Mama, I know I should- I should probably not write to you. In fact, I'm not sure if you will get my letters after what has happened. But I had to write to you because I have the most wonderful news. You are going to be a grandmother...I am pregnant and Owen and I are...absolutely thrilled..."

Rogue trailed off as she felt the tears she had held back all day gloss and blur her eyes. She managed to hold them back but at the cost of her voice. She looked up to find Sarah staring with tears already running down her cheeks. Her dear friend gave a sniffle of a giggle.

"Cook told me that when your mother ran away, some of her things were secretly put away in the attic at your Grandmother's insistence. I found them this morning and thought you should have something of her with you when you- when you..."

The younger girl's words became hitched in her throat as she covered her mouth to force back a sob. With her face flushed and streaked with tears, Sarah covered her mouth in an attempt to quiet her sobs but they only grew harder to contain. Rogue silently pulled her friend into her arms and hugged her close as she finally let her own tears fall. But they were not so sad as they initially should have been. A genuine smile spread across Rogue's flushed face as she gently stroked Sarah's head in an attempt to comfort her.

"Thank yah Sarah..."

The two friends held each other close and said little else that night. They both knew that it would be the last time they saw each other but there was nothing else to say that hadn't already been said. And it was too much to speak as if they would see each other again. And tomorrow there would be no place for goodbyes. After both had spilt all their tears, said all there was to say, Sarah left for her own room but not before saying one last thing.

Kissing her friend's forehead, she pulled back to cup her cheeks and softly spoke.

"Smile sunshine. Tomorrow you're going to be free of this place. No more crying, promise?" 

Rogue clutched her friend's wrists and nodded though a tear still managed to stream down her cheek. However she wiped it away hastily as she repeated her friend's words. Asserting her oath.

"No more crying,_ promise._"

The two shared a smile but before the end could come, Rogue pulled away and walked quickly over to her trunks. She rifled through one for a little while until she found what she was after. She took her friend's small hand and within it placed two things. One, a leather purse filled with gold coin and paper, and the other a letter. At Sarah's confused expression, she explained.

"There's enough money in there to get _you, Scott _and _Alex_ away from this place. And this is note explaining to Scott what ah'm telling yah-"

"Rogue-"

"Dammit Sarah! Ah will not leave ya'll here t' burn with mah relatives! So please, _please_ take the money and as soon as you're able to, _go!"_

Sarah opened her mouth to protest but Rogue wouldn't have it. She folded her friend's dainty fingers over the purse and letter. She held them together as if to fasten them to Sarah's hands as she spoke.

"Ah will promise to smile and be happy until the Earth freezes over if yah will do this for meh. Ah couldn't live with mahself if ah left yah _here_ with _them_."

Sarah could do nothing but give a shaky nod.

"So long as _you_ promise."

Rogue flashed a genuinely relieved smile.

"Ah promise." 

Only then did the two friends part. Both set to carry out the promises they made.

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_**Kinda on a roll no? **_

_**If you could review for both updates, that would be swell! I'd love feedback on both!**_

_**REVIEW! **_

_**-Gams**_


	18. Wedded Bliss

_**Sorry for the long wait! **_

_**Oh I forgot to mention last update, **__until Queen Victoria's wedding in 1856, women wore an assortment of colours for their wedding dresses. White wasn't seen as fashionable for weddings, hence the purple I've chosen for Rogue's dress._

_**I hope no one is too disappointed with the way I've plotted this chapter. I promise there will be time for re-caps! **_

_**-Gams**_

**Chapter Seventeen – Wedded Bliss **

The sound of farewells and well-wishing guests became muffled behind them as the carriage pulled away from outside the Church. Gravel crunched under the hooves and wheels of the horse and the carriage became the only overtone in the otherwise-silent confinement as the couple sat together for the first time as a newly married man and wife. Every now and again, Remy would catch her eye and give what she could only assume was his version of an anxious smile, as he never seemed to be in any kind of discomposure. Throughout the wedding ceremony she had found it difficult to not blush under his stare. In spite of all she thought and the very little she knew about this _Remy_, he had this uncanny way of toying with her emotions and it was often without being deliberate. The moment she had approached the altar, her eyes had caught his in spite of all her efforts to keep her eyes to the floor. There had been a moment there where everything in the church had become obscured and faded of all that was life and colour. All that remained were those penetrating red irises and that almost stunned expression across his face. And then the moment came and went and he replaced the shock with his usual charm and a smile. Rogue's cheeks had flushed pink by the time she was passed from her Grandfather's arm to Remy's.

The ceremony itself had been a smooth affair until the very end. After making their vows and exchanging rings, the priest had just pronounced them husband and wife when Remy swiftly turned her to face him and planted the most delicate of kisses against her lips. It had lasted a few moments but it was all it took to stop her heart and leave her in dire need of air as he drew back and proceeded to lead her back down the aisle. She assumed that was what first kisses were like. Short lived but savoured by breathlessness and a pulse in one's ears. Or was that just her wishful thinking.

Subconsciously, Rogue found her wedding ring wrapped around the appropriate finger and twisted it with her right hand. The gold band was warming to her skin, but it still felt alien on her finger. She stared out the window again and continued to twist the band around her finger until Remy reached out to grasp it in his. She turned to look at him as he raised the branded hand to his lips and placed another delicate kiss on her knuckles. She felt that flush of heat return to her cheeks as he spoke.

"Y' look _trés belle ma chérie._ De pearls are a lovely touch."

Rogue rest her fingertips against the round, gray pearls strung around her neck. Though it was no stand-in mother, it was the closest thing she would ever get. And she had needed her mother's presence that day. She let her hand fall back to her lap as she offered a silent smile of appreciation to her husband. However it was at that moment, the carriage lurched as it made an overexerted turn causing them both to heave to the side as it turned. Rogue instinctively reached out to steady herself. Her hand found the side of the carriage only to come into contact with her husband's hand in the same place. Even through the fabric of her gloves she felt the warmth in his hands. Meanwhile his other hand had reached out to clasp her around the waist to keep her from falling off the seat. Rogue looked up only to become locked in Remy's gaze as the carriage continued to turn the bend. When the carriage steadied itself to a natural pace, the lock shattered. While he released her waist and she took back her hand, their eyes remained fastened.

Remy had never been more nervous in his life than he had been standing at the altar. Hell, he was certain he had never actually been _nervous_ until that very morning. John had been overly cheerful while he went about helping him dress for the wedding ceremony. However his optimism couldn't quite rectify the apprehension underneath their skins. One slip and their grand scheme could go up in flames. And there was more than just a marriage at stake. However the moment Rogue stepped into view at the end of the church hall, all anxieties seemed to fade away. All he could focus on was the woman walking towards him. The ceremony was a blur to him, they said their vows and signed the marriage certificate without a hitch. And all the while his eyes never wavered from her face. He'd never been a very religious man, but the way she looked made him believe in angels. Usually a kiss to seal the deal was not done by English custom but he never was one for rules. He saw the surprise in her face when he pulled her close and cupped her chin gently to draw her in. Her lips were soft, untouched and an instant drug he craved. Though the kiss was brief, he forced himself to pull back and lead her back down the isle.

Now Remy fought an inner battle with himself. His better judgement told him to keep her at a distance as he had promised but what he felt towards _his wife_ was making it difficult to maintain said promise. Everything she was called to him like no other had. But amongst his feelings for Rogue and the obvious attraction he knew was there, a cold voice in his head told him had no right to her. Not really. A reluctant, silent sigh escaped his lips as he gave her a half smirk and broke from her gaze. He told her they should be back at the manor soon and a new silence took hold.

The wedding reception had already begun with a few hundred guests by the time they returned to Delmar manor. The newlyweds stepped into the ballroom with an applauding reception before being received by their mostly unnamed well wishers and so-called friends. The couple boasted happy acceptances and cheery smiles though underneath their true feelings made war with the façade they had to play for the benefit of others. However when the first formal pleasantries were finished, the couple was separated to endure further prodding and congratulating by their own circles. While the gentlemen commended Remy for his conquest made of Rogue in one corner of the grand hall, the ladies did much the same with Rogue in the other. Both clenched their teeth in an effort to endure such torture.

"Oh Anna-Marie, you and Lord Black do look quite the picture together. I'd imagine your children will be the perfect concoction of both your qualities! I am certain of this for my dear Robert and I wish the exact same for our own children! Whenever that might be of course. Oh! Wouldn't it be splendid if we were to _both_ have children at the same time? That would be simply perfect-"

Rogue felt something akin to nausea stir in her gut, as Countess Constance DeGraves's words of _far_ too many assumptions for the future. The fifteen-year-old heiress smiled brightly, her young face a fright of powder and rouge more befitting to a woman twice her age as she began to plan by word how wonderful it would be if their children were to become constant playmates. She herself had been married not a month earlier to a Count several decades too old for her and it seemed marriage agreed with her very well. Rogue silently asserted the fact Count DeGraves was worth twenty thousand a year had to have had some considerable pull of interest in his young wife, for his slight port-belly and receding hairline were not features that inspired romantic affections. She would've felt inclined to feel sorry for Constance DeGraves if it weren't for her incessant, mindless chattering and lack of true brains. 

She pitied Count DeGraves as she replied in her best show of politeness.

"I thank you for the thought Countess but I'm afraid my _husband_ and I don't intend to return to England for some time. His family reside in Paris and I must go where he bids me."

Not that she had any inclination to be bossed around after this day was ended.

The young Countess made a pathetic pout more comely on a child's face only to continue her mindless chatter of how she would miss her in her absence though until recently she hadn't so much breathed a word in Rogue's direction. Rogue couldn't have been more grateful for when another Lady whom she hadn't the faintest recollection of approached the Countess with a delighted cry of greeting and engaged her in more mindless chatter. Rogue took the opportunity and excused herself from the pair with the guised excuse of having to greet a guest she had not yet seen. As soon as she was in the clear from anymore well wishing guests, Rogue slipped through a door hidden behind a wall tapestry that lead to a narrow secret passage.

The darkness of the hidden passage was a welcoming change as she leant back against the closed door. She bore a deep breath of air as she allowed her body to relax for a sheer blissful moment.

"_How can women enjoy these occasions, honestly…"_

The echo of the festivities in the other room were muffled through the closed door but even so, Rogue felt the urge to put as much space between herself and the peoples of _that room._ She followed the familiar passage until she met the end that let out to one of the Eastern corridors close to the servants chambers. Warm anticipation filled her thundering heart as she hurried down the spiral stairwell of the servants deserted chambers. Sarah, Scott and Alex had not been permitted to the wedding reception, of which she was somewhat happy for she knew her surrogate brothers held little high regard for her now-husband. There was certainty of a scene if they had come. Now however, she could not stand the separation from her _true_ family any longer. Her heart leapt into her throat as she approached Sarah's bedroom door. Without thinking, she turned the handle and pushed the door open- to find not a soul in sight.

Rogue stood frozen in the doorway with a bemused expression as her eyes raked over the tidy empty room. It was as if Sarah had never lived there. Her bed was made, the few possessions she owned gone from sight. There was an outline of clean floorboards where her father's old sea trunk had once sat at the end of her bed.

Rogue felt her heart sink to the very pit of her stomach.

"Sarah…"

The name rasped across her lips in a ghostly fashion. But she was not convinced of her new assumptions just yet. Turning on her heel, Rogue stepped out of the room and at a frantic pace made her way towards the men's dormitories. However she was only disappointed again by what she did not see. Both Alex and Scott's rooms were empty and void of anything that belonged to them.

Somehow amongst the turmoil of confusion and shock, Rogue found her way back slowly to Sarah's desolate room and stood once again in the doorway. Cold winter sunlight draped over the barren room as her eyes trailed slowly across its few contents. They must have done what she told them, she reasoned.

But so soon?

And without so much as a goodbye?

Disbelief settled in her stomach and naturally turned to a new bout of emotions. Disheartenment and relief entwined in her heart, leaving her numb of much else. Rogue didn't realise how long she had been standing there until the sound of footfall caught her ears.

She knew it was John from the way he hovered so quietly. So she spoke.

"Do ya know anything about this?"

She tasted the salty tears that ran down her cheeks but proudly refused to wipe them. She continued to stare at the empty room as she waited for John's answer. As expected, his answer gave her no peace of mind.

"I know nothin' about it Sheila, I'm sorry."

Rogue could not help the bitter chuckle that escaped her lips. Finally, she turned to face him. He looked as sorry as his tone of voice insisted but she had no more patience for apologies with no real answers.

"Ah'm sure ya are John but frankly, ah'm certain ya know more than your master is willing to let on."

With her cold words said, Rogue pushed gently past him and slowly made her way back upstairs. She didn't think to look back at him. Nor think that John would pull out a concealed letter from his coat pocket and brush his hands over the name _Anna-Marie_ inscribed across its face. John heaved a heavy sigh and returned it to his pocket.

"I _am_ sorry girlie. But it's for your own good."

Rogue made her way back to the party via the usual entrance, which was a long corridor of glass-panelled walls. She ignored her tear-stained face as it passed from one panel to the next but stopped short of a few metres from the doors when she noticed the two figures standing outside them.

Her gaze narrowed as anger was added to her concoction of emotions.

Lord Black stood conversing with a servant but as soon as she noticed him, he seemed to pick up her stare and looked towards her. He spoke a few words of dismissal to the servant while his gaze remained intent upon her. The tearstains on her cheeks seemed to burn under his gaze. Concern remained blatant across his face as he approached her, his hand stretched to take hers as he spoke gently.

"_Chére_-"

His hand was but a hair's width from hers when she slipped it out of his reach and pushed past him for the door. Her red-rimmed eyes burned with emerald venom as she hissed back.

"Just _don't."_

He didn't make to stop her before she pushed open the doors and stepped into the ballroom once more. The façade of the happy bride fell back into place while she buried her emotions that had come so close to exploding.

_**And that is an update. Review please! **_

_**-Gams **_


	19. Fools

_**Thank you everyone who was nice enough to leave a review! Its nice to know this story hasn't been forgotten on the readers end either! **_

_**-Gams **_

_**Chapter Eighteen – Fools**_

The wedding reception came and went in a tortured blur of annoying guests and endless false pleasantries. When the time came for the newly weds to depart, the send off was far from emotional. Aunt Carrie performed a pathetic attempt at tearing up as she stiffly hugged her apathetic niece for the briefest of hugs and wished her endless happiness. Lord Delmar however managed some form of emotion. After bidding her new husband farewell (and succeeding in hearing assurance of his _earnings _from their agreement) a stern glare formed across his face as he leaned forward to kiss his granddaughter's forehead. He growled under his breath so low that only she could hear _"_I wash my hands of you today girl. Pray you obey your husband, for you shall not be wanted here should he become displeased with you." Marie managed a façade of a smile as she drew back. She spoke in a sweet tone that was potent in falsehood. "I would not _hinder_ you any further for all the gold in this world, Grandfather." And with that, she turned her back on her former tormentor and stepped into the carriage, ignoring her husband's offered helping hand.

She felt a rush of proud elation at her last words, knowing fully well that her grandfather was practically burning a hole into the back of her head with his glare.

Finally, the bride and groom were farewelled from the Delmar household and began their journey to London. The sky turned pink with coming of twilight as the carriage rode on at vast pace, trudging through the snow. Rogue did not look back at her former home for fear of seeing not the gothic rooftops but the faces of her friends across her mind's eye. After discovering that Sarah and the boys were gone, it dawned on Rogue how Jean had seemed to disappear as soon as the wedding reception had finished. Emotion welled up in her chest but unlike earlier, she forced the discomfort down into the core of her soul and hardened her resolve to keep her emotions in check from now on. She wouldn't give her husband the satisfaction of seeing her in such an obvious state of upset again. Which was also why she made a point not to speak unless necessary in his presence. It was only until they were out of sight of the manor that he turned to speak. His voice was too gentle with consolation for Rogue's liking. Her pride kept her in check.

"Rogue…"

She kept her gaze locked on the quickly passing forest outside the carriage windows. His hand came to rest on hers but she withdrew it smoothly without so much as a glance. Remy heaved a pained sigh. Their small encounter in the hallways had left his resolve aching with strain. He itched to tell her the truth, to show her that his actions were not to cause her to be so miserable and confused. But to tell her now, with the Delmar manor still licking at their heels was to tempt disaster to fall. He had no real way of knowing how she would react to his revelations. No, he must wait. But her cold response left him awfully tempted to blurt everything out or shake her senseless so she would be herself again with him. Not this façade of cool composure and _numbness_ to everything.

"Will y' at least look at moi when I speak t' y'?"

Rogue remained cool and distant as she replied. She didn't know why but she kept her natural accent in check.

"If you have something to say, _husband._ Say it."

She was surprised when he reached out for her again, this time without gentleness, and turned her by the shoulders to look at him. His unusual eyes were livid as he spoke in a hard tone of mixed emotion. Remy was _so_ close to for fulfilling his idea of shaking her senseless at her words but he kept himself in check as he spoke.

"Y' can be as mad at moi as y' want Rogue. _Mais_ _don't_ talk to me like dat. Not like I'm one of _dem_. Dat's not your voice _chére_. _Et_ I won't hear it."

Her unfeeling façade slipped away for a moment at his words, causing Remy to hope that there was still a chance the _real_ Rogue was still there behind that mask. As mad as she was at him for all he had done, the fact he could pick up when she was trying to faze him out and was so obviously impassioned by it was a reaction she had not expected. His grip loosened from her shoulders and trailed slowly down her silk-clothed arms to rest on her gloved hands. His thumbs ran circles into the back of her hands. The sensation caused a new flush of colour in her cheeks and chills to run up her arms. She removed her gaze from their entangled hands only to lock on his eyes again. A mistake on her part for it gave him the cue to speak again. His voice had calmed but it was potent with determination.

"I will keep my promise t' y' Rogue. Y' will learn every'ing I have t' tell y' _mais_ I beg y' t' wait a little longer. Dis is not de place for it."

Rogue's brow furrowed with confusion, so he took to another tactic. He released one of her hands only to raise his to her cheek in a tender show of affection and what felt was comfort. She dared not rest too easily in his comfort and smoothly removed her hand from his and turned to face the window again. She felt his disappointment…or more…shared it. She put her mask back into place as she spoke.

"Ah'll wait but ah won't beh strung along forever... Ah'm not a complete fool."

Rogue felt him relax a little beside her. He didn't take her hand again and Rogue was frustrated by herself that she wished he had.

"_Merci_. _Mais_ y' et I both know y' are not a fool at all _chére_."

_Am I?_ She thought to herself as she turned to glance at him for a moment. Those red-on-black eyes stared back, revealing nothing but what he wanted her to see.

_No._ She turned back to looking out the window. _I'm the biggest fool._

_**A very short update I know but I felt this was a good place to end the chapter. Next update shall be on its way over the next week I hope! **_

_**Review please!**_

_**-Gams **_


	20. Keeping One's Cool

_**Ahh its good to be back. Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews, much appreciated!**_

_**-Gams**_

**Chapter Nineteen – Keeping One's Cool**

They arrived in London later into the evening than expected. Rogue pulled her thick coat around her shoulder a little tighter as the chill of the night began to bite a little harder. They were not long in the city before they stopped outside what appeared to be a harbour-side inn. Rogue eyed the dark building before them with a slightly wary expression. She had been under the impression that they would be staying in a London apartment before leaving for Paris the following morning. She turned to her husband with an unimpressed expression followed by an arched brow of questioning nature.

"Ah take it this is _another_ change in the plans ya thought best not to mention?"

Remy feigned a look of sheepishness that did not at all suit nor look convincing as he took her by arm and led her towards the entrance.

"Apologies _ma belle, mais_ we want t' be near de harbour if we are t' set sail in de morning."

Rogue stopped short from entering the inn, causing him to stop in reaction. She questioned him in a thinly veiled voice of annoyance.

"_Set sail?" _

Remy nodded.

"We're travelling by ship to Paris."

Rogue remained with her feet planted on threshold.

"Isn't it easier to travel by coach?"

He shook his head as he tugged gently towards the inn.

"Not from where I'm standing. Now come inside y' stubborn t'ing. Make us catch our deaths standin' out here."

Rogue made sure to trod sharply on one of his feet as she surpassed him into the noisy inn. She smiled evilly to herself as he let out a sharp, pained noise before tenderly following her inside with a slight limp. She ignored his slight outcry; though she did not have to look only imagine a rather peeved look across her husband's face as she followed the rounded inn keeper's wife up the staircase. They surpassed the tavern below and made their way up a narrow flight of stairs before coming to a rather drafty corridor on the top floor. Rogue tried not to make a face at the plumb innkeeper's wife began to rattle on how they had just refurbished the place _specifically_ for their Lord and Lady's arrival. Rogue was not fastidious around such _unsatisfactory_ surroundings but she was confused as to why he had chosen such lodging. After all it was supposed to be their…

Rogue stiffened for a moment. It finally dawned on her that it was their wedding night. However she hid her stiffness coolly as the inn keeper's wife lead them down the narrow passage to a room at the very end.

"Tis' our best room M'Lord an' Lady. I've had the fire goin' not half an hour ago too y' see."

It wasn't a large room but considering the closet that was the corridor outside, it was large in comparison. A fire was lit in the tiny fireplace on one wall while on the other stood what the inn keeper's wife called a 'grand' looking canopy bed. There was but one window but it was caked in so much snow it somewhat defeated the purpose of having one. Rogue eyed the bed with growing dread. What was she going to do?

Before she knew it, Remy had shooed off the innkeeper's wife with a nice gold piece in hand and shut the door behind her before she could begin to make a fuss of gratitude. He turned to face her with an amused grin across his face.

"_Desole_ _chére,_ I know dis wasn't what y' expect _mais_, it was all I could arrange dis time o' year. I was expecting t' leave earlier mais de coach took too long…"

Rogue stopped listening as her head began to spin with apprehension. She had known that this would happen for months but now that it came to it, she hadn't given it _enough_ thought. It was an expected tradition for a bride and groom to consummate the marriage on the wedding night but…but was their circumstances different? She knew it to be ridiculous to expect her situation to be different from others. Many a couple had been married by arrangement before her and had been expected to consummate it as expected on their wedding night. She was _married now _and by marriage she was obligated to abide her husband's _needs_. She just wasn't sure she was ready. Not yet.

"Rogue? _Chére_, are y' alright?"

Rogue jolted slightly when she realised he stood but a few inches from her and that she had slumped down to sit on the edge of the bed. She blushed, embarrassed as well as anxious, as she tried to avoid his concerned stare.

"It's nothing- just a headache. It's getting too hot in here."

He nonchalantly rested a hand to her forehead to feel her temperature only to trace that same hand down to cup her face. Her head turned to face him again as he spoke.

"Y' are a little warm. Here-"

He reached for her coat and began to untie it only for Rogue clear her throat and quickly grasp the laces from his hands and continue herself. For once, he took the hint and released the coat strings. Instead he turned to a small table near the fire on which a tray with a pitcher of water and mugs. He poured her a mug and offered it to her wordlessly. Rogue took the mug and drowned it in one long gulp, solemnly wishing it was wine to settle her nerves.

Not long before the wedding, Aunt Carrie had pulled her aside and divulged all the details of what her wedding night was to entitle. Being a spinster, Rogue wondered how it was possible for her to know such details but nonetheless she made it perfectly clear that her husband was entitled to take what he wanted from her. And what man in his right mind would refrain from taking what was so rightfully his?

"Is there any wine in this god forsaken place?"

Remy gave her an odd look but left to go ask the innkeeper. Rogue heaved a sigh of momentary relief and fell back onto the bed top. What was she going to do?

Meanwhile, Remy leant back against the opposite wall in the corridor outside. A heavy sigh slipped from his lips as he closed his eyes a moment. While on the outside he had been nothing but a paragon on resolve, he was close to breaking on the inside. For the last hour of the journey in the coach, he had begun to realise that this was his wedding night. A night he had always envisioned to be one of the best or worst nights of his life. But being that his wife was Rogue and that he was practically married under every falsehood imaginable, he was in a state of uncertain turmoil.

He was a man who enjoyed sex more than most. He was a master at the art of love making (or so women had told him) but this was no saucy wench he was about to have his way with. This was Rogue._ His wife._ A woman he had lied and married without her having so much as a say in the idea. She was also very young and very inexperienced in more ways than mere virginity_._ To consummate their marriage was obligatory but to do so felt _wrong_ for so many reasons.

Remy pushed off from the wall with a sigh and made his way down the corridor at a casual pace as his thoughts revolved around the woman waiting in the room behind him. A carnal part of him that was less rational about what was right or wrong begged to have her. He quenched it with reasoning until it was cornered and shoved into the back of his mind but it was there it itched and tugged at his thoughts. But Remy was determined to hold true to his honour and respect for Rogue. He would never force a woman on principle. He would most certainly not force Rogue or make her feel obligated to do so. He would wait. Even if he found her neck to be the most tempting thing to nuzzle or her waist so perfect a fit for his hands to span between-

He let out a frustrated sigh as he came to the end of the stairs. He landed harder than he intended, causing the sting in his "wounded" foot to raise its head. Remy took it as a sign of warning. Even if he was determined to try anything with her this night, the chances of her even letting him near her were not in his favour.

"And she knows how to use a sword…_Mon Dieu."_

He chuckled to himself as he headed towards the now-emptying tavern. His wife was certainly a _deadly_ temptress.

A few minutes later when he returned with a bottle of wine and some glasses, he opened the door without thinking to knock first- and caught his wife in the midst of getting undressed. He stood absolutely transfixed by the sight. Rogue stood with her gown in hand, dressed in nothing but her shift, corset and a thin petticoat skirt. Her hair was a waterfall of curls down her slender back. She stood almost as stunned as him only after a few seconds she sought to cover herself more by clutching her gown to her ample chest. She withdrew her shocked expression in favour of a near-peeved look and an arched brow.

"Have ya heard of knocking b'fore mah Lord?"

He in turn broke from his trance, and turned to close the door behind him. But even when he turned back he could not help himself. His gaze remained fully on those small glimpses of creamy flesh and felt the carnal animal in him rear his head with interest. He had to stop. He knew he had to stop but it pained him to do so. He cleared his throat silently as he approached a small table that faced away from her…but a mirror above the table made his efforts to give her some privacy redundant.

Remy focused his attention to pouring the wine into the glasses as he spoke.

"Forgive _moi_ _chére_, I'm not used t' knocking on my own door."

It was a few moments before she replied, her voice strained by her movements as she attempted to un-do her corset. There was nothing to be done except continue undressing. She couldn't just stand there uselessly trying to cover herself from her husband's obvious staring. And besides, there would have to be a first for this at some point.

"It's no matter."

She was kind of thankful that he didn't make any more efforts to watch her as she undressed. However when she realised she had neglected to find something to change into, she grew anxious again.

"Where is mah trunk exactly?"

He turned to look at her this time and almost fell over his own feet with the glasses in hand. She was in nothing but her white shift and near the small fire, it silhouetted her body and left very little to the imagination. Her arms nervously wrapped around her front as she stood there.

Remy spoke as if in a daze though he knew he could've shown more care as the words came out slowly.

"It's already on the ship…we depart early y' see…"

Rogue made an annoyed face and sighed irritably. Her voice was somewhere between sarcasm and nerves.

"_That_ was a well thought idea."

He placed down the glasses of wine for a moment and reached for a small rug on the end of the bed. He came towards her at a gentle pace and flung the rug out to wrap it around her shoulders. They stood with mere inches between them as he adjusted it to cover her trembling shoulders. He realised that despite the fire, the room was still cold. He let go of the rug and offered a kind smile. She returned it, meekly. The first he had seen in weeks. He gently reached out to tuck a stubborn strand of white hair behind her ear. When she didn't flinch away or slap his hand away, he asked.

"Have y' always had dis in y' hair?"

She nodded slowly.

"It's natural. Otherwise ah wouldn't take the trouble t' dye it mahself."

He stroked her hair admiringly for a moment.

"It suits y' well _ma chére_."

Their gazes locked. Remy's fingers trailed the side of her face to gently grasp her chin. He knew then and there if she let him kiss her he would lose all control. He would not be able to _not_ make love to his wife if she initiated it first. And would it be so bad if they did? However he would not find out for when he was but a breath away from touching her lips with his, a knock came from the door. The spell broke as he turned to look at the door. She pulled away gently from his hold. Remy heaved a silent sigh as he approached the door.

"Yes, who is it?"

The innkeeper's muffled voice replied from behind the door. Agitation coursed through him.

"Excuse us m' Lord, I jus' came t' check that everything is t' y' liking is all and if y' or y' wife need anything else b'fore I go t' bed m'self?"

Remy heaved a sigh and replied as his jaw clenched with annoyance.

"We are quite well t'ank y' Madam Godfrey. Goodnight."

A muffled goodnight was returned before Remy bolted the door and turned around. However when he turned to look back at the fireplace he found Rogue was gone. His gaze did a sweep of the room only to find Rogue sitting cross-legged on the bed with a glass of wine in hand.

Though her position was perfectly innocent…he felt his breaches grow suddenly rather tight. He turned away and grasped his own glass and took a large sip, wishing it were a strong glass of bourbon instead. When he turned around again to face her, he found Rogue sipping her glass. She gave him an unsure look but did not look nervous.

"What is it?" 

He gulped silently.

"Not'ing. Y' best get under de covers_ non_? It's a cold night."

_Not cold enough._ He thought as he tried to ease himself of the obvious example of his desire for her between his legs. The shuffling of sheets didn't help as he imagined her suggestively beckoning him from the bed in a manner he knew she wouldn't do when he turned to look at her again.

"Shouldn't ya get under the covers too?"

Though she said it for very practical reasons, she may as well have been beckoning him to her with a curling finger and a temptress's smile as he felt himself grow in desire. That was it. He couldn't take this torture any further. He set the glass down a little harder than intended and turned around to face her. She sat upright in the bed, the covers up to her waist in a nonchalant manner. Her expression was questioning as he stood there silently for a moment before blurting out roughly.

"I just remembered somet'ing I mus' attend to. I'll return in an hour or two."

He grabbed his coat and left the room before she could ask him why.

_**Poor Remy huh.**_

_**And I couldn't stop once I started updating! **_

_**-Gams**_

_**REVIEW! **_


	21. Irrational Behaviour

_**FAIR WARNING: possible smut in this chapter! And someone pointed out if I was going to keep this a T rated fic. Well I just upped it to M rated. Just in case. Haha. So there's fair warning here too.**_

_**A note for**__ cerrenous: __**He will tell her everything eventually and I certainly do intend to finish this story! I know, I know, its taken me years to get this far but I have every intention of finishing. Thanks for the sweet review!**_

_**And a **__**special note**__** I failed to mention in the last 2 updates. Recently I got some pretty insulting comments and I have to say that I do no appreciate it and if you don't like what I write I don't understand why you're still reading. I love getting good reviews, hell I like critical reviews because they are helpful to me in improving my writing skills. But to be purposely hurtful or rude is just uncalled for and I won't tolerate it. **_

_**To those of you who offer the best reviews every update, thank you so much. You keep me writing! **_

_**-Gams **_

**Chapter Twenty – Irrational Behaviour **

As soon as the door had closed behind him, Rogue let out what she had expected to be a relieved sigh but…somewhere between that almost-kiss and how he had abruptly left her alone…it had become a disappointed kind of sigh. She couldn't understand why and it frustrated her to no end that she felt it but she was somewhat disappointed that he hadn't tried anything. She began to consider reasons as to why he didn't try to make love to her like he was expected to. The obvious reason was that he felt it was wrong to do so because he had lied to her about his identity and his intentions towards her. That he felt if he made love to her now, he was doing so under his false name and not as _Remy _or whatever his name was.

Rogue slumped back into the lumpy pillows and heaved another frustrated sigh.

If he would just tell her _why_ he felt the need to lie to her on such a grand scale!

A few minutes of frustration and endless self-questioning passed until her irritation turned to disappointment once more. Thoughts of her being undesirable for her inexperience or unsatisfactory looks began to eat away at her until she had just about downed the entire bottle of wine herself. She soon fell into an uncomfortable, wine-educed slumber with the bed covers resting just under her waist.

By the time Remy returned to the room, the candles had dimmed to nothing and the fire had burnt out to a few weak embers in the fireplace. Noting the sleeping form of his wife in the bed, he made his way to his side of the bed without so much as a sound. He couldn't help but pause to stare at her a moment and heave a defeated sigh. He had left the inn with every intention of getting rip-roaring drunk and not returning till morning but his common sense was quick to trip him up. He couldn't afford to be drunk tonight. There was still a chance things could fall apart at the seams and he had to be sober to ensure it did not. So he spent his time walking up and down the harbour without so much as a drop of bourbon in his system and fought the winter cold. But the cold was both a blessing and a hindrance. The hot-blooded Cajun in him saw to it that his plan to stay all night on the harbour failed. He could barely feel his toes by the time he returned to the inn. His teeth chattered as he stripped down to his breaches and undershirt and slipped carefully into his side of the bed. As soon as he was comfortable however, he felt Rogue shift beside him.

Rogue heard the slight shuffling beside her and felt certain that Remy had returned to the room. She didn't move nor open her eyes as he went about changing and getting under the covers. However while she became more awake, she also became more aware of how cold the room had gotten. Paying no heed to her husband, she got up and slipped out of the bed in search of her trunk and a pair of socks. However it was as soon as she got out of bed that she realised she had forgotten her trunk wasn't there. Cursing to herself silently, Rogue made to return to the bed but in the dark, her feet walked blindly. Her big toe hit the bottom of the bedpost causing a brief, pained cry to escape her lips. Her feet were frozen, amplifying the pain as if she had kicked a stone wall instead. She bent over, one hand resting against the bedpost as the other clutched her foot. She began rubbing it to ease the pain.

"_Chére-? _What's de matter?_" _

The sound of the bed covers shuffling and creaking caused her to freeze on the spot. Remy had shot upright in bed and stared at her with mildly alarmed concern. Those red embers were the only light in the dark.

Rogue bit down on her lower lip to stifle the lingering pain. It began to ease by the time she replied.

"Ah'm fine ah just- ah just stubbed mah toe on the b-bed post. That's all."

She heard him shift before he pushed her side of the covers away for her to slip into. Her side of the bed was half drenched in moonlight from the snow-caked window.

"What were y' doing out of bed anyway?"

She continued to tremble from the cold as she slipped into the bed with haste. Her teeth began to chatter as she pulled the covers to rest under her chin.

"Ah-ah'm freezing. Ah was g-going to get some socks but then ah- ah real-lised that mah trunk i-isn't he-here-"

She had not expected Remy to reach out for her. His hands wrapped around her's and shuddered at the icy touch. He brought both her hands between his as he spoke.

"Y' _are_ freezing…"

He surprised her further by bringing himself closer under the covers, adjusting them so that they were both covered from the neck-down. He was just as cold as her. To further her surprise, he brought her hands to his mouth and blew on them. His breath was warmer than he was. It caused Rogue to tremble uncontrollably as fire began to kindle in her. He began to rub her hands between his to further the attempt at warming them. Rogue found that she could only watch him in his ministrations and tremble. But she wasn't entirely sure it was from the cold anymore.

Without either of them really thinking it through, Remy pulled her a little closer and trailed his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to warm her up. He scolded himself silently for bringing them here. He should have got a place with an adequate fireplace. But as he continued to rub her arms, he began to feel his body warm up in a …certain area again. It quickly dawned on him also that this was the closest he had ever been to her and that she was _letting_ him touch her. Her skin was heavenly soft and was warming to his touch. He wanted her but knew that it wouldn't be fair to her. She needed answers not-

One of her delicate hands came to rest against the back of his hand, stopping it in action. He met her gaze, the only part of her face that wasn't bathed in darkness. They were bright and inviting, telling him that she was fully aware of what they were doing and where it might lead….

His resolve to resist was held by a mere thread as they leant closer. Her warm breath blew sweetly on his bared neck as his hands began to slide closer to her waist in his ministrations.

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes slid almost shut…

The thread that held his resolve snapped clean in two.

One of his hands rested against her clothed waist as the other cupped her jaw to help direct her to his lips. He pressed tentatively against hers at first and drew back only momentarily to meet her gaze one more time before giving in to another. It was heaven and he began to devour it greedily like the pirate he truly was. He pulled her closer so that their bodies touched while she tentatively picked up the pace with her own lips. Her now-only-slightly chilled hands slipped to his chest, moving smoothly until they slipped around his neck like a noose and held him tight. He moaned against her lips as their tongues began a battle. His hands swiftly slipped from her cheek and waist to wrap around until they pressed against the small of her back and held tight, pressing their bodies until they were flush against each other. His still-healing shoulder winced a little as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a firmer hold but he ignored it. This was swiftly becoming everything he had imagined as her soft lips caressed his in definite _Roguish_ need.

Rogue didn't know what she was doing. She had never kissed a man up until about half a minute ago but it was an art she felt she was quickly learning. His hands were warm, almost tingling heat against her skin through her shift as they pulled her closer. Her chest was suddenly flush against his. She felt his heart beat heavily in time against her own thundering heart. A wonderful kind of warmth spread through her entire body, coiling between her legs at the very feel of this man holding her close. She let out a moan of protest as his lips moved away from hers until they found their way to her neck and began similar ministrations. She gave a sharp gasp when she felt his teeth graze against her flesh, causing her hands to move higher and course through his hair at the feeling-

"_Rogue…_"

The sound of her name on his lips caused her to tremble involuntarily. She knew this was a bad idea. A _very_ bad idea. But it was what she wanted. And she had never had anything she wanted in so long. All the reasons why she shouldn't be doing this with him were thrown to the wind as he rolled them over so that she lay beneath him. Suddenly she didn't care who he was, she just wanted him to keep touching her. He nuzzled her neck as his hands slipped to her hips and caressed them. The skirt of her shift began to shuffle higher-

However before they could do anything more, the most unwelcome sound erupted. The door knocked but they paid it no heed at first. After the third round of knocking, they stopped but it was with great reluctance. Remy rested his head against her heaving chest.

"It could be important…" 

She offered half-heartedly. He nodded against her and sat up slowly. He kissed her roughly before slipping out of the bed and trudging dramatically towards the door. He called to know whom it was before flinging the door open and stepping into the hallway.

Once her heart had stopped racing and the fire within her had died down, Rogue managed to sit up in the bed and listen to the muffled voices. Finally, the door swung open and Rogue caught a glimpse of an anxious looking John in the hallway before it shut. Her sense of suspicion began to rear its head again. Remy on the other hand, came back agitated and oblivious to her presence as he went about getting dressed again. Rogue had to speak to get his attention.

"Is somethin' wrong?"

It was as if he finally realised that she existed in this world. His head shot up in mild surprise and locked gaze with hers for a brief moment. He was quick to finish putting on his boots before coming to sit beside her and rested a hand on her cheek. Rogue didn't like the way he didn't kiss her instead. When he spoke, his tone of voice was calm and endearing but it was still avoiding her question. Like always.

"Get some sleep. I'm just going t' attend t' somet'ing."

When her suspicion began to show, he stroked her cheek and gave a half-truth.

"Some complications have arisen wit' our journey for tomorrow."

At her confused expression he leant forward and kissed her briefly. Rogue hated to admit it but it calmed her. He drew back, his hand lingering on her cheek as he spoke.

"Don't worry. I will return in an hour. I promise. Get some sleep."

And with a brief smile, he left her alone to her turbulent thoughts.

Rogue couldn't even contemplate sleep now.

_Something_ was wrong and it vexed her to no end that he tried to hide it under a kiss of all things. Suddenly all her reasons for distrusting him came creeping back, agitating her further to a point where she began to see the light in what she had just done. Or rather _nearly_ done. She nearly screamed at herself in frustrated. Rational decisions were well and truly lost to her now so she made up her mind to go see what it was _Remy _was up to. She slipped from the bed and pulled on her coat about her shoulders before slipping quietly out of the room. She had promised herself that she was not going to stay in the dark forever.

She knew for a fact that their journey to Paris had been settled and planned out weeks ago. Though the plan to sail to Paris instead of taking the coach had left her puzzled, there was little reason to believe there could have been any sort of complication that couldn't be resolved come morning. Determined, Rogue made her way carefully down to the main tavern room only to stop short on the last set of stairs. Two familiar voices spoke not a few feet from the stairwell. John sounded particularly anxious.

"I don't like this Captain! They could be looking for us soon! And with _your wife_ still in the dark, _we_ could have a problem convincin' her _we're_ the good guys if we're caught!"

Rogue listened intently as she crouched down to sit on the stairs. Though she couldn't see them from the angle of the stairs, she could hear them perfectly well. Remy heaved a heavy burden of a sigh before speaking.

"Calm down _mon ami_. Every'ing will go as planned, jus' have t' have a little more care 'bout our steps. De French authorities will 'ave t' get through the English b'fore dey can set foot on Delmar's estate. Dat gives us a good day's head start. Now look, y' go make sure we're good t' cast off at dawn. I'll go et make sure dat-"

Rogue struggled to hear the last part but it was then she felt something come behind her. Out of the darkness behind her, a strong hand grasped her from behind and wrapped around her mouth. Her heart just about jumped out of her chest as she began to struggle with her captor, her scream muffled by the man's strong grip. The last thing she felt before plunging into darkness was the feel of a second hand pressed intently into the base of her neck and the sound of footfall.

_**Oh oh. **_

_**And I'm not totally certain of what pressure point knock-out her assailant is using but I tried to research it and it came up with Captain Kirk and Spock trying to knock him out…hmmm not very strong sources.**_

_**But despite the slight fuzziness I'm sure you get the idea. But do you know who it is? Heheh.**_

_**REVIEW!**_

_**-Gams **_


	22. A New Dawn, A New Day

_**Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and support!**_

_**-Gams **_

**Chapter Twenty-One – A New Dawn, A New Day **

Blinking away sleep, Rogue's eyes opened only to be pierced by the blinding white light of dawn. With a groan of disgruntlement, she shielded her eyes with one hand while the other felt around the mattress to steady her as she sat up. However instead of the lumpy confines of the inn bed or the stiffness of her own at Delmar Manor, the bed was soft and the covers rich and foreign looking. She was quick to discover that she wasn't in any bed she recognised.

Confused and still quite blurry-eyed, Rogue sat up and turned her gaze about her surroundings. Her head throbbed with a dulled pain while her eyes began to adjust to the intense morning light. The room was unlike anything she had seen before. Though not tall like at the inn, it made up for it in the numerous trinkets of finery about the room. Wood panels lined the floor, ceiling and walls. Each panel had a distinct ornate quality with carvings that trailed like vines. The bed in which she had slept in was bolted to the floor and flush against one wall and more like a day bed but there was more than enough room for two. She nervously fingered the burgundy red covers as she stared across the room. In the centre of the _cabin_ stood a dark mahogany desk with various rolls of parchment and maps laid out neatly upon its surface. The source of light came from the only window in the room, which was panelled and stood above a window seat…overlooking what appeared to be a harbour port.

Her gaze and mind sharpened with realisation.

She was on a ship.

"Oh Lord…"

Confusion and alarm became muddled together with her growing headache as she tried to piece together what had happened since the night before. All she could recall apart from her husband's…_interesting _return to the inn was creeping down the stairs and listening in on John and _Remy…_

Panic began to eat at her as her heart hammered in her chest and in her ears. She heard her own words of consolation slip out of her mouth though she felt quite disembodied and not quite in her own skin as she came to realise what had happened.

"Just keep calm…find your things…this-this must beh the ship he was speaking of…ya, ya haven't been abducted…"

With trembling hands she inspected her own person and was quick to discover she was dressed in nothing but her shift. When she looked about the room again she found none of her clothes from the night before or her trunk. She surmised with great anxiety that she had travelled without either of them. She clutched her mother's pearl necklace about her neck and relaxed slightly. At least she had something that was hers still about her person. She took a moment or two to let the panic in her weave its way out until she could focus on what to do next. Her hands trembled slightly against her sides with nerves but she ignored it. As calmly as possible, she went about the room in search of proper clothes.

She had not looked far when she found that on the end of the bed was draped a dark leather trench coat. She didn't stop to think whose it was as she slipped it over her chilled exposed arms and pulled her hair out from under the neck of the collar. However as soon as it fit into place a familiar smell caught her senses. The smell was male, a mixture of spices and tobacco and it was indeed too familiar for it caused anger to surface in her already turbulent emotions. However she hadn't the chance to think on it for not a moment sooner, the only door to the room was unlocked and creaked open.

John Allerdyce's head poked through the gap at a hesitant pace. However when he locked eyes on her startled expression, he was quick to offer a rather uneasy but cheerful smile. He stepped quickly into the room, brandishing a tray of food in one hand while the other closed the door behind him. He offered another sheepish grin as he set the food on the desk.

"Mornin' Sheila. I hope you slept well- AH! JESUS-!"

His morning pleasantries died upon impact with her murderous expression and the sudden hand that clamped his shirt collar in an iron grip. Rogue made no time for such pleasant returns as she rounded on him with a growl in her voice.

"Saint John Allerdyce don't ya'll try an' sweet-talk meh about good mornings! As far as ah'm concerned this is the _worst _morning yet and Gawd dammit ah am _tired _of this- this _Bullshit!"_

She had never been one for course language but at the state her emotions were in, it was second nature. John tried to reason with her.

"Look Rogue, I'm sorry it happened like this but you gotta let Rem- your _husband_ explain things!"

Despite the growing headache throbbing between her ears, Rogue managed to force John back into the desk causing the tray of food to go clattering to the floor. She stood over him with a murderous expression still in tact.

"Ah am _sick _of waitin' for ya'll to figure out what _so-called truth_ ya'll are gonna feed meh next!"

She paused a moment as the strain of her headache and brutish actions began to take toll. John reached out to comfort her but she pushed his hand away. She clutched her temple and let out an aggravated groan.

"What the hell happened t' meh last night John? Ah swear someone must've hit meh over the head with somethin' hard…"

John looked anxious as he pulled himself to his feet again and adjusted his collar.

"Well uh…y' see Sheila…y' not far off on that. Logan- he's the First Mate, he was keepin' watch of you and when he saw you eaves droppin' he…saw it fit to… knock you out before you could run off?"

He blurted the last few words out in haste but Rogue caught every one with perfect clarity. It took a moment but she managed a response.

"He saw it fit to …_knock meh out?_"

He offered a week response as he went about picking up the tray of food from the ground.

"It wasn't anything personal…"

Rogue gave an incredulous look and began to pace the room in utter frustration. It was a moment or two before she spoke again. She turned on the spot to face him as she growled.

"Where is he?"

John looked confused for a moment.

"Logan-? He's-"

Rogue rolled her eyes impatiently.

"_No. _Where is Damien- or _whoever he is!_ Ah want mah answers _now _or so help meh ah will make life such a hell for ya'll that ya would wish ya were never born!"

John gave an awkward, uneasy chuckle.

"As much as I believe that Shiela…I can't do that just' now. The Captain- your _husband_ is attendin' t' some matters in the city."

"Then go _find him_ and bring him here!"

He gave an exasperated sigh and shrugged.

"I don't know where he be right now but he'll be a while. You're better off just waiting it out- he sent me up here to make sure you were comfortable and to tell you that he'd be back to talk things through soon as he could-"

A snarl better suited to an angry dog erupted from her lips as she pulled John by his coat once more and pushed him towards the door without so much as a hint of female gentleness. John tried to reason but she was beyond such tactics. Well and truly _beyond._ She pushed the door shut behind her, forcing it closed with her back as John tried uselessly to speak to her through the door. Anger pulsed through her veins as she closed her eyes and leant back against the door. Finally, John gave up on his task and heaved a great sigh.

"I'm sorry Rogue. Truly I am…"

Rogue bit down hard to stifle her angry tears. John continued in a gentler tone. She was amazed he wasn't deterred by her furious outburst.

"He'll be back soon enough. Until then, he's instructed me t' tell you that you are to stay put until he returns. Not every sailor under these sails is a _virtuous_ man y' know."

The sound of the lock turning was followed by his quietening footsteps and Rogue knew that she was alone and _trapped_ once more. Scathing with anger, her only consolation became the sound of the ship swaying slightly in the dock. Uncertainty and anxiety were quick to return as she blinked back her angry tears.

"What the hell have ah got mahself into…"

As if to mock her in her distressing situation, the familiar scent of the leather coat began to weave its way into her senses and she couldn't help but pull the broad collar up high and inhale. It was soothing and yet…a grave reminder of who had put her in her current position and what she had nearly given to that person without so much as a second thought…

_The feel of his warm, rough hands pressed intently on her hips causes sensations within her she didn't think possible for her. His lips seared against her skin in a trail that led from her lips only to course down her neck. He moaned her name as he returned his lips to hers to devour them. She suddenly felt a burning desire to call out his name only…only she was unsure what to call him now… _

Rogue felt herself tracing the invisible trail that his lips had left from her lips down to her collarbone. A single tear streamed down on of her cheek as she closed her eyes and pushed the memory of his touch back into the darkness. Her brow furrowed as anger began to fuel her again, followed swiftly by a streak of determination.

Rogue wiped away the stray tear without another thought and began to go about the room at a frantic pace. She tore apart every container, every drawer and every trunk in search of anything, _anything _that might help her in her escape. Finally, she found a set of spare men's clothes in a drawer. They were a little big but they were easily fitted with the thick belt she found in another drawer. She got rid of her white shift and pulled on the pair of dark breaches, followed by the broad belt to keep them in place. She tucked in the white undershirt and slipped a red sash around her neck to hide her mother's pearl necklace. She slipped the leather trench coat back on over her new apparel. While she detested the reminder it held of her untrustworthy husband, it hid away her womanly features perfectly being so much larger than she. However there was still one thing that could give her disguise away too easily.

She found a pair of scissors in one of the desk drawers and a mirror hanging on one of the walls. When she made the first cut, she had held her breath and scrunched her eyes shut as if to cut off a limb rather than a lock of hair. But when the limp curl fell to the floor and did not cause her to scream, she managed the rest without so much as a flinch. Soon, her once glorious mane of hair lay in heap upon the floor and the remaining locks came to rest on her shoulders.

"It'll grow back…"

She told the unrecognisable person in the mirror before slipping another red sash over her head. She wrapped it securely to hide her tell-tale white streaks. When she was certain of her disguise's plausibility, Rogue went about the room in search of coin. It was one thing to escape but to escape with nothing to fund said escape was a stupid attempt. However when the room offered no further aid to her scheme, she heaved a sigh and forced her hands into the pockets of the trench coat.

The sound of light clinking quipped her attention. She dug deep into one of the many coat pockets and pulled out a leather purse that was ripe with coins. A devilish smile spread across her lips.

"What was it that the priest said about _sharing all earthly possessions?"_

She was about to return the purse to the pocket when a slight glimmer on her hand caught her attention. She froze at the sight of her wedding band and the round-cut ruby of her engagement ring. Rogue fingered the two rings and gently slipped them off to turn them between her fingers.

Had this been a part of the charades too? She hardly knew what to believe anymore. On one hand if she left them, he would know she was leaving him for good and that this marriage was all a sham anyway. So it would be reasonable to do so. But on the other hand if she took the rings, she would be taking _him_ with her as well…and honouring her promise as a wife.

Rogue heaved a frustrated sigh as she held the two rings in each hand and battled herself for a decision. However the sudden sound of footfall coming closer from outside the room caused her to jump and the rings to fall from her hands as she turned to face the door in terrified anticipation. But when no one came bursting through the door, she eased herself and leant against the desk for support.

Her gaze fell on the two rings on the floor.

A few minutes later, after having crawled out of the window with the least amount of noise possible and her boots in hand, Rogue jumped the large gap between the ship and the gangway and quickly made her way towards the Parisian streets. When she had lost sight of the docks, she stopped in a narrow alleyway and slipped on her boots.

The red diamond engagement ring peaked out from around her mother's pearl necklace as she leant over to secure her boots before ducking back under her shirt collar as she began her new route.

_**Cleaned up and edited. **_

_**An update! I've had this chapter planned for years now. Its fantastic to finally have it up!**_

_**REVIEW!**_


	23. Disguises Will Get You so Far

**Chapter Twenty-Two – Disguises Will Get You So Far**

After a few hours of wandering the backstreets of Paris, Rogue felt herself easing into her surroundings. She had spent the first hour of her newly acquired freedom looking back over her shoulder at almost every noise or voice that sounded like _his._ What was worse, she felt like every pair of eyes she passed was watching her and seeing through her disguise. However when she accidently ran into a woman in the street, the woman was quickly angered and knocked her up the back of the head. She told _him _to watch where he was going and turned her nose to the air before taking her leave. Rogue was set at ease about her disguise after the encounter and began to refrain from watching her back at every slight noise or voice. But she was still careful. She had no idea where she might run into her husband and saw it fit to watch herself.

She was quick to forget her troubles as Paris began to win her over. She had never been there before nor anywhere else in the last ten years if you didn't count the numerous times she snuck out to the local village with Sarah, Scott and Alex. She was quick to discover that Pairs was no local village at all. Music poured from some windows while vendors of every shape, form and business lined the streets and alleyways. She had to bite her tongue and resist looking at any of the fine silks or trinkets upon pain of suspicion. She didn't want to draw any unwarranted attention. However as she discovered Paris' many indulgences, she found herself growing weary with hunger. And as if luck would have it, she was quick to find a tavern.

The tavern was as smoky as it was full of every kind of miscreant Paris could offer. Men sat at tables drinking and eating, squabbling and laughing like a pack of well-fed wolves. Rogue was given no trouble as she weaved in and out of the tables to find a small table at the back that was not too conspicuous. She removed her tricorn hat and called over a serving wench. At her polite call, the mild-aged serving wench gave an amused cackle.

"What's y' poison _cher_? Though I mus' say, y' not long from y' Mama's milk way y' talk."

Rogue tried not to blush as she deepened her voice in a sad attempt at a young man's voice and asked for a pint of ale and a plate of food, dropping several coins on the table to hasten the request. To Rogue's relief, the amused serving wench was kind enough _not _to say anymore as she gave a curt nod and left. Rogue let out a relieved sigh and slumped into her seat. Another serving wench was quick to return with a pint of ale for her. Rogue was mildly surprised when the young chit gave her a sly smile and took her time to leave the table. When she left, she could not help but scoff. She had not thought her disguise _that_ convincing.

"I've not seen the likes of you around these parts boy."

Rogue stiffened with panic but quickly resolved that the voice was as unfamiliar as it was unexpected. Turning slowly, Rogue took notice of a figure tucked further into the shadows of the tavern corner. The figure wasted no time in waiting for a reply. Instead the figure stood, picked up their chair by the back and turned it to face Rogue's table and sat without so much as a 'May I join you?' on their lips. Rogue tried to make out the figure's appearance but it was so dimly lit in the room, she had a hard time figuring out whether she should be wary of this person or terrified.

The man, or what she first thought was a man, raised a hand and ordered for another round to be brought over. The chit of a serving wench rushed over with two pints of ale but wasted no time in flirting with the newcomer. Rogue's curiosity was intensified as she waited for the figure to speak. When he did, it was with a stern voice.

"Well? Speak! What business have you in this place? I've not seen a newcomer here in some time."

Rogue roughened her voice in an attempt to sound like a boy but felt it was somewhat useless to try. The figure did not sound convinced either but it was probably more to do with the lie that pushed nervously through her teeth.

"I- I've come here t' tend t' me Ma y' see. She's ill an' has no other-"

"I find it rather difficult to believe a young _boy_ who is so obviously from a ship's locker, would have such a _womanly_ care for his mother's welfare. Many a sailor has _sold _their mother for passage. Or I would imagine so, if not, much worse than that."

Rogue felt panic seep through her veins while the figure all too casually took another swig from their drink. But despite the figure's quick tongue and talent for seeing through feeble lies, she was certain that the voice was of no man's. The voice spoke up when she did not.

"Well? What _is _your business here? And don't make another attempt at lying to me again _boy_. I am no judge nor priest. I do not take well to being lied to."

Rogue frowned, biting back her panic with a new rush of spirit.

"Forgive me but my business is not any of your concern. My business here is my own."

She couldn't see it but she was certain the figure smiled with cruel amusement. After a moment and another swig of ale, the figure spoke up again.

"Indeed it may well not be my business. But when a _young man _comes into a tavern, orders ale and food with the pleasantries of a child of the gentry and fails to catch on to a saucy serving wench's _advances_. One must be curious…or suspect other games afoot..."

Rogue paled as the figure moved into the light a little more. Indeed she had thought her disguise good and misleading at most but this figure was the genuine article of a perfect disguise. Though her men's clothing was well tailored to fit, her firry red hair pulled back into a man's low tail of curls and while the darkness added to hide her true features, she was indeed a woman. Rogue could not help but stare silently in shock until the woman let out an amused chuckle.

"Do not be afraid dear, you are not the first and certainly not the last woman to go about disguised as a man- or boy, I should say in your case."

Rogue flailed for words so the woman continued.

"I shall not enquire about your business here but I will ask this. Have you a weapon about your person?"

Rogue slightly scolded herself. She had a purse that would see her through but not weapon to defend herself with should the purse be inadequate. She shook her head and the woman gave an almost disapproving look.

"Quite foolhardy to go anywhere without some kind of weapon at hand my dear. Here-"

She pulled a shiny dagger from her belt and held it out for her to take. Rogue made to protest about buying her own but the woman would have none of it. She put the dagger in her reluctant grasp and held her hand closed as she spoke. Those almost yellow-tinted hazel eyes spoke of authority that Rogue dared not contest.

"Even a woman must know how to defend herself should the need to arise. _Keep it _and keep it handy. There are blackhearts in this city that would see you on your back before you could scream my dear. If God forbid that should happen-"

She raised the dagger still in Rogue's grasp and made a feigned attempt as forcing the dagger but an inch front her own throat in a sharp plunge.

"Aim for the neck or _his head_."

Rogue didn't need to ask what she meant by the latter suggestion. She nodded quietly and slipped the dagger behind her to slot between her back and the belt around her waist. She hoped she wouldn't get the chance to use it tonight.

"Thank yah ma'am. I owe you-"

The woman raised a hand to silence her mid-speech and shook her head.

"You owe me nothing except to be careful."

Rogue nodded and removed her hand from the purse in her pocket.

"Thank you."

The woman said nothing in return but rose and slipped back on her hat as she stood. She was tall, her frame well built and stronger than any frail lady Rogue had come accustom to seeing back in England. The woman raised her mug in a small toast and took the last swig of her pint of ale. She gave a satisfied smack of her lips before sitting it down on the table.

"To your safe journey dear. Remember my warning and make sure you find lodgings before dark. Farewell."

Rogue raised her own pint and returned her safe returns. And with that, the unnamed woman left her alone and slipped out of the tavern. When she was gone, Rogue pulled out the dagger and inspected it with great interest. It was the most beautiful dagger she had ever seen and it was obviously crafted for a woman's grasp. While the grip of the dagger was small and fit perfectly into her hand, the blade was thin and sharp to the touch. Rogue traced a finger over the silver filigree of the handle with awe. The pattern formed a variety of vine-line details that webbed over the handle while a distinct shape of a raven whose wings fanned out to form a guard for the user's hands.

Rogue wondered how she could've parted with such a beautiful dagger. She twisted it lightly between her fingers, pointing the tip of the blade into the table as it spun between her fingers with ease. Scott had taught her how to use a dagger once but her skills lay mostly in swords. Now the use of a dagger held more appeal than the latter.

Rogue was interrupted from her admirations of the dagger when the first serving wench approached her with her meal in hand. She set it down and began to pleasantly rattle about it being the best roast chicken in Paris when she stopped abruptly. Rogue stared as the woman turned paler than a sheet and began to back away slightly in genuine fear. Her leathery voice rattled with nerves.

"Oh-! I- I did not know- Oh _monsieur_! I be beggin' y' pardon! I 'ad not realised- How would y' like another drop of ale _oui?_ On de house, _oui? Oui!_ I go get it-"

It was then Rogue realised that her gaze was no on her but the dagger between her fingers. It was the _dagger _that had made her so anxious. Before Rogue could protest or ask whatever was the matter, the nervous serving wench yelled for the younger serving wench to clear the empty pints on Rogue's table and hurried off to go get her another. The younger wench hurried to clear the table but Rogue was quick to act and grasped her arm. The young wench practically jumped out of her own skin at her touch. Rogue kept a calm voice as she spoke.

"Please- what is wrong? Why did your mistress grow so nervous when she saw my dagger?"

The wench looked puzzled for a moment but mostly frightened. She continued to clear at a slower pace as she whispered gently.

"Don't y' know,_ monsieur? _Dat is de crest o' de Captain of the _Mystique._ Captain Raven Darkholme."

The young wench was quick to leave soon after her quick explanation, leaving Rogue to sit in absolute wonder of the last few minutes. It took a while for the full realisation to hit her but when it did, she welcomed the new pint of ale and drank it heartily.

The Captain of the Mystique had handed her a dagger to protect herself with.

She nursed her drink as she tried to figure out _how_ on earth it was that she fascinated these strange kinds of people.

_**Well now we have another character thrown into the mix. **_

_**REVIEW!**_

_**-Gams **_


	24. Roguish Rebellion's Price

_**Hey everyone! Thanks for all the support and reviews. It's good moral building for when you're on an update roll!**_

_**-Gams **_

**Chapter Twenty-Three - Roguish Rebellion's Price**

Raven Darkholme was unlike most women of her generation. Indeed, she wasn't like most women of _any_ generation given her choice of occupation and status, not to mention her choice in fashion. It had taken ten long years to gain her post as Captain after her predecessor Eric Lencherr retired and left his crew for the taking. It took another two to build her vessel the _Mystique _and another ten to live up to her reputation as a Pirate worth fearing. Her crew feared and respected her as they should any Captain who called themselves Pirate. Which was probably one of the _only _reasons why Logan Howlett still held respect for her. Her personal qualities however, left nothing but well-placed distrust and suspicion in his heart.

So when the _legendary Piratess_ came out of a near-by tavern, he had reason to be suspicious if not intrigued by her presence in such a hell-hole. But ironically enough, he did not have to seek her out himself. She came to him.

A cunning smile spread across her red-stained lips as she sashayed towards him at a leisurely pace. Logan visibly stiffened and held his guard up high as he leant against a near-by wall. He took a drag from his cigar. The hot embers lit up their faces in the dim evening light as she came to stand in his personal space. She was never one for boundaries, as he so recalled. He acknowledged her with a _polite_ nod of his head.

"Raven."

She tipped the front of her hat lightly. She leant against the limestone wall with the ease of an alley cat.

"_James._ You look well I see."

He exhaled, blowing smoke into her face. Raven's pride did not allow her to cough but her nose scrunched up slightly in discomfort. Her once semi-pleasant disposition turned cold as it always did. She wasted no further time with pleasantries as she swatted away the excess of smoke.

"Aren't _you_ supposed to be looking out for LeBeau's _little wife?_"

Logan took another drag and hung his cigar between his fingers in mid-air. He eyed it, noting how short it had become in such short time. He threw it to the ground as he replied roughly. 

"_The Aussie_ was supposed t' be keepin' an eye on her. Damn fool didn't think to lock the window."

Raven gave an amused chuckle as she pulled out a silver case of thin, brown cigars from her pocket. She politely offered him one but he offered her only a distrustful arch of his brow. Raven rolled her eyes.

"It's a cigar _James._ A harmless offer."

He took his time but he did take one.

"There are no _harmless offers_ with you Raven."

Raven raised a match to the cigar between her lips. She grinned.

"Oh you would know everything about my offers James, now wouldn't you?"

He gave a curt snort as he lit his own cigar and took the first drag.

"LeBeau is getting frantic. He's gone patrolling the harbour while John, Piotr and I have been out searchin' f' the girl in the streets since this morning."

Raven nodded in understanding, her temperament had turned wise and calculating.

"I take it that search has been in vain up till now?"

Logan shook his head.

"We think she might have disguised herself. Some clothes were taken from the room and we found a lock of hair on the floor. My guess is she was _thorough_ with her disguise."

Raven's eyes seemed to glow yellow with interest as she stared off into the street. She said nothing for a good few seconds, leading Logan to suspect that she knew more than she was letting on.

"What do you know Raven?"

Raven turned to face him again. A cunning smile spread across her lips. She gave a mildly amused chuckle and took another drag of her cigar before speaking.

"Oh James, if you knew. I swear I'd never hear the end of it. Come, we must hurry. I believe _Mrs LeBeau _is waiting for us-"

Raven was about to lead him towards the tavern when the sound of cat-calls, jeers and whistling caught their attention outside the tavern. A smaller figure, a boy to their eyes, ran from the tavern entrance at a brisk pace while a group of men- the source of the commotion- followed in tow.

Logan didn't need an explanation as to what was going on. A disgruntled, low growl escaped him as he threw his not yet-finished cigar to the ground.

"LeBeau best put this girl on a leash when we get back."

Raven gave an amused chuckle.

"He'll need more than a leash I suspect."

They followed the trail at a brisk pace.

XXXX

As advised, Rogue decided to find lodgings for the night before it got too dark. Pushing her third mug of ale aside, she dropped a few extra coins on the table and began to make her way through the maze of drunken dogs. She had to dodge a few overly zealous drunks who were jelly-legged on their feet. She was mid-way across the room when she was reeled back literally by the pull of the long sash she had wrapped around her head.

"What's dis _mon fils_? A lady's_ favour_? Y' be a little young t' be sporting such gifts-"

The Frenchman was drunk but not drunk enough to not know how to tug the sash off. The force of the tug made Rogue stumble back until her bottom hit the floor. It all happened so fast that she didn't realise her hat and sash were gone and her unusual hair exposed until a few of the drunkard's other friends began to point and laugh. She also didn't realise her coat had fallen aside at the front, revealing her all too obviously female torso. Her disguise lay in pieces as the men began to leer and jeer at her.

"What a surprise! Dat is no _fils mais_ _la_ _belle fille!"_

Rogue moved quickly to her feet. Panic ran cold in her veins as she tried to push past the crowd of jeering drunkards that now encircled her. They may have been greatly intoxicated but they were still a force she could barely break through. One pushed her back with such force that she fell back into the drunkard's arms who still held onto her red sash and hat. He groped her inappropriately from behind, causing a rush of anger and humiliation to surface. The crowed laughed with him at her expense as he spoke.

"Well aren't y' a _belle petite chére!"_

Rogue tried to pull away but he held strong. She hissed angrily between her teeth.

"Let meh go! Or ah swear mah husband will-"

The crowd whistled and made jeers of disbelief while the drunk that held her just laughed as he grasped her left hand- her ringless bare hand.

"I see no weddin' band on y' finger- y' tell pretty lies m' _chére_. Maybe y' can tell me _more_ pretty lies _non_?"

Rogue was not so naïve that she didn't know what he meant. With a rush of adrenaline and determination to _not find out_ his true meaning, she grasped the dagger Captain Darkholme had entrusted her and brought the blade up to the hand that grasped her so indecently. The blade cut like a razor, blood oozed from the man's sliced hand. He cried out in pain and gave the intended reaction- he released her and she made no waste of her chance and ran towards the slight gap that had formed in the wall of spectators. She managed to slip through as everyone's attention was now on the howling drunk who was now swearing that she was really a little viper. Rogue didn't turn to look back as she rushed out of the tavern but she knew from the now-angry cries behind her that they were following her.

"Get dat bitch back here! She can't get away wit' dis-!"

She identified the now-angry Frenchman whose hand she had deformed. He was in the group of men who now followed her at a brisk pace. Fear had been trickling through her blood when she sliced his hand but now it ran like a poison in her system as she ran aimlessly into the darkness of the alleyways. She didn't have a clue as to where she was going and the darkness only made her route harder to follow. All she knew was that the group of men were on her heels and if she stopped, they would take her. Raven Darkholme's words of warning sent chills down her spine but she steadied herself by tightening her grasp on the dagger she still held. She would _not _be a helpless girl.

"_Never again._"

However when she came to the bottom of a steep, downhill road she found herself doubting her vow already. She had come to a dead end; an open courtyard surrounded by building walls. She stood at the only way in…and the only way out.

"Oh Gawd no…"

She turned, startled by the nearing sound of the men following her. They were getting closer and they had but only to check the route she took to find her.

"No they won't, they won't…"

The words slipped out of her lips as she went sprinting about the courtyard in search of a way out. There were windows but they were too high and had nothing for her to climb up to reach them. Her heart gave in to hope of escape when she found a door but was quickly crushed when she found it was locked. She beat at the lock with the hilt of her dagger but the door was solid as a rock. No doubt it was sealed off on the other side; a door turned wall. Rogue beat the door in her frustration. But the wasted action cost her dearly. She didn't see nor hear the men come up behind her until it was too late. Two, who were not as drunk as she had suspected, grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her towards the others. Rogue struggled, adrenaline coursing through her like a blazing fire. But it was chilled by the return of the poison that was fear. They took her dagger and flung it to the ground, out of reach. They laughed at her feeble attempts to escape. The one with the now-bandaged hand approached as the two men who held her kept her as still as possible.

The injured Frenchman was sobering up now but his features were hidden in shadows so she could not make him out. Nevertheless she could practically feel the cruel amusement radiating off him. He spoke first.

"Y' _are _a _belle petite _viper. _Mais_ y' have a cruel bite, _non?_"

He raised his injured hand for her to see in the vague light of the moon. Blood clotted the makeshift bandage. Before she could anticipate it, he brought up his other hand and backhanded her across the face. Her pained yelp echoed about the courtyard. Dizzy from the impact, her head lulled to one side while a trickle of blood trailed down the side of her lip. It was only a few seconds before she came-to again. Her brow set in a dangerous glare though fear continued to course through her. She gritted her teeth as she began to struggle in their grasps once more.

"Let meh go or so help meh ah'll-"

The Frenchman gave an overzealous bark of laughter while his companions chuckled with similar amusement. He cupped her chin firmly between his fingers as he levelled his face with hers.

"You'll what _petite_? Bite my face off?"

Rogue had never been more serious in her life.

"Ah'll _kill you_."

The Frenchman gave a low snort at her threat.

"Forceful too. I mus' say, I like dat in _femme_._ Mais,_ y' will have t' do won't y' _petite fille?"_

Rogue felt the fire in her run cold as he started to trail his hand from her chin to her exposed throat-

"You best let her go bub."

They all turned at the new, gruff voice. Rogue craned her head to look over the man's shoulder as three figures approached from the unguarded entrance to the courtyard. The one who spoke stood half-bathed in moonlight. He was not exactly tall but his stocky build made up for what he lacked in height. He sported a cigar between his lips, the embers the only colour they could make out in the dark. The Frenchman gave a low scoff. He didn't seem intimidated. Yet.

"Mind y' own business y' _salaud_. Dis is no concern of yours."

The man approached at a leisurely pace, his footsteps heavy on the ground as he ignored the other men who bared their swords and pistols in warning. The other two figures stayed in the darkness and did not shift as their companion approached the Frenchman.

Logan took a long drag of his cigar before speaking.

"_I_ _said_ you best let the girl go bub. This is your last warning."

The Frenchman looked unamused. He released his hold on Rogue and turned to face him with a pistol drawn in his good hand. He towered over the man easily, gaining him a sense of superiority that was well and truly misplaced.

"And I said she is none of your business. Now fuck off b'fore I put a bullet in-"

He didn't get the chance to finish his threat as Logan grasped him by the collar of his shirt and with one arm flung him to the ground. The Frenchman groaned in pain and clutched his back. Logan chuckled as he picked up the cigar that had fallen from his mouth off the ground. He tapped the end and below on it before returning it to his lips.

"I gave you enough warnin' bub. Now _leave_. I won't be givin' no more warnings."

But of course his threat was unheeded. The Frenchman was soon on his feet and brandishing a sword in the stead of his discarded pistol. His friends soon joined him but they were quickly engaged by the two figures that had up until now remained hidden in shadows. A hell of a fight broke out. While Logan and the Frenchman began an unfair duel in which Logan refused to draw a sword in favour of well-aimed right hook punch, a large man who resembled more of a giant followed his example. With brute-force that matched his great size, he knocked one of the men holding Rogue to the ground with just one punch to the face. Rogue was quick to act and elbowed her other captor where it hurt most. He grunted in pain but it was not enough to knock him down completely. The giant offered the same courtesy he had to his friend. He fell to the ground in an unconscious heap, leaving Rogue to stare up at the giant in wonder.

The young giant gave a kindly smile before speaking in a notably strong Russian accent.

"Are you alright _malyshka?"_

Rogue nodded though she trembled with her emotions. She was about to ask who he was when she noticed the third figure fighting amongst them.

It was Captain Darkholme and unlike her male companions, she was fluent in swordplay. Rogue watched in stilled awe. She moved so elegantly and yet _so ruthlessly_ as she dispatched her attackers' somewhat feeble attempts. However there was still the element of surprise on their enemy's side. One man, who was sporting a bleeding cheek, approached Raven stealthily from behind. Rogue found her voice again as she called out.

"Captain! Behind ya!"

Raven turned in time to see the man lung at her with a blade in hand. She was quicker still as she dodged the aim of the blade, and raised the hilt of her own and knocked him up the side of his face. The man keeled over but did not fall. He was bent low enough that he could reach out and tackle the Captain around the waist. He forced them both to the ground, causing Raven to drop her sword in the effort. The gentle giant rest a warning hand on Rogue's shoulder as he spoke.

"Stay here, I will help the Captain-"

He needed only to jog a few large steps before he was standing over the wrestling cur and Pirate. He ripped the man off of the Captain like a child did a doll; with great ease.

Rogue was watching so intently that she did not notice the familiar figure that approached her from behind until it was too late. He grasped her by the arm in an iron-grip and turned her forcibly around to face him. The Frenchman glared down at her, his face a mess of blood and broken nose. He raised his bloodied sword to her throat.

"Y' be less trouble dead _chérie_-"

His threat was quick to lose its weight in worth, for a familiar hand reached out and ripped the sword out of his hands. Rogue was quick to take her chance, and raised her free hand in a tight fist. She had been taught how to punch but had never had the chance to practice on a real attacker until now so her aim was thrown off slightly. She punched with her knuckles and not the ball of her palm. She cried out in a mixture of pain and anger but the result still landed the Frenchman in his back. Logan gave an amused chuckle as he came to stand with the Frenchman's own sword in hand. With the sword at the man's throat, he rested a foot on the Frenchman's chest to ensure he stood down. A teasing note found its way through his gruff voice.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya bub."

He heaved a knockout kick to the man's face. The Frenchman fell into unconscious oblivion as his body went limp on the pavement. Meanwhile, his fellow attackers seemed in similar states or worse.

Rogue clutched her injured hand to her chest as she watched her stocky saviour turn his gaze away from the unconscious Frenchman and onto her. He made towards her only for her to take a careful step back. He looked irritated by her actions but did not advance further without speaking.

"Easy Stripes, I'm not gunna hurt you. Now come here, lemme see that hand."

When Rogue stubbornly refused to move let alone show her hand, he advanced forward. Rogue acted out of panic and swung her uninjured hand towards his unsuspecting face. _This time_ she got it right and the impact left nothing but a dull ache in her hand. His head turned to one side with the impact of her punch but he did not stumble back like the Frenchman had. Logan gave a low grunt and massaged his now slightly tender jaw as he came to face her. An amused smile found its way to his face.

"_Now _that was better than y' last try."

He turned his neck to one side, causing it to click.

"But it was a wasted blow girl. Now give us your hand, I want only to check ya didn't break any fingers."

Rogue would have none of it. She took another step back.

"_Who_ are ya? And why did ya help meh?" 

Logan's temperament turned irritated again as a scowl found its way back to his face.

"We ain't got the time for this Stripes, now give us your hand so we can get you back to-"

Rogue's eyes grew wide with shock. She took another step back only to knock into something solid. She looked around to find the giant standing behind her. He gave a meek smile and apologized quietly. Rogue turned her gaze back to Logan.

"You work for _him? _No! Ah'm not goin' back there-_"_

Logan heaved a mildly irritated sigh and waved his hand at the giant, twirling his index in an upward spiral. At his signal, the giant picked Rogue up much like he had with the man before only with much more gentleness. Still, Rogue struggled to get out of his arms.

"Let meh _go! _Ah will not go back ya hear-"

Logan rolled his eyes as the gentle giant carried her towards the road the lead out of the courtyard.

"You can take that argument up with your _husband_ when we get back okay darlin'? Now hush up, don't want to wake up any of those _friends _of yours back there."

As the small group took their leave, Piotr offered a meek apologetic smile to Rogue as she continued to struggle in vain against his hold.

"I am sorry _Malyshka _but you will see, your husband is a good man. He will be kind."

Rogue heaved a frustrated albeit defeated sigh as she slumped in Piotr's unbreakable hold. She had no doubt that if anything, Remy would _not_ be so 'kind' nor very pleased with her when she was returned to him.

_**Sigh. What an update.**_

_**Will edit later, but here it is.**_

_**And just so you know what I'm saying in French:**_

_**Fils – Boy**_

_**Fille – Girl**_

_**Femme – Woman**_

_**Petite – Little**_

_**Mais – But**_

_**Salaud – Bastard **_

_**Russian:**_

_**Malyshka – Little One**_

_**REVIEW!**_


	25. Patience, Patience

_**Special thanks to **_Hope Hannigan _**who has been sweet enough to help me with the French translations and ensuring I clean up my mistakes for last update. Thanks darl'! **_

_**-Gams **_

_**Chapter Twenty-Four- Patience, Patience **_

By the time they returned to the ship, Rogue had run her voice raw and the events of the day had begun to take their toll. She was grateful for the silence between herself and her trio of saviours-come-captors. She had no desire to answer questions or be berated as an insolent babe. Though she hated the idea of being carried back like a disobedient child who had run away from home, she had to admit that her actions were not something to be proud of. Chills ran up and down her spine as flashes of the last hour rewound and played in her mind. She had nearly been raped by a group of men. Any girl her age would be nothing but a puddle of endless tears by now but her pride wouldn't let the events of the night get to her. Still, she knew that she was trembling more from the shock than the pain in her injured hand. Her overtired mind began to concoct possibilities once they arrive at the ship. Imaginings of being thrown in the brig or latched to a ball and chain played in her mind's eye but they quickly put to a stop as soon as they arrived. She was relieved in fact to find that she was being led back to the room she had woken in.

Piotr placed her gently into a chair and offered a kindly smile in an attempt to cheer her spirits. She managed a meek one in return before Logan spoke.

"Now this time _stay put_. Got it Stripes?"

Rogue returned the stern order with a timely roll of her eyes but he barely acknowledged the look (merely by grunting), as he turned to the gentle giant.

"Piotr, don't let her near the windows-"

Raven's amused sniff caught their attention from the doorway. Logan narrowed his gaze.

"Did you have something to add, _Captain?"_

Raven unfastened herself from the doorframe and came into the room at a leisurely pace. Her unusually coloured eyes danced with amusement at her gruff companion's obvious disgruntlement as she replied dryly.

"_Really_ James you amaze me sometimes. She's injured and fatigued from today's adventures so I doubt she's in any state to be embarking upon a new one. _Piotr-_ go see Doctor Bardon about bringing something for her injuries-"

Logan motioned to interject but Raven was quick-tongued and already herding Piotr and himself out the door.

"_I _shall remain and keep an eye on her _in case she get's any ideas. _Though I'm sure it's only to give you some piece of mind."

"_Raven-"_

Logan looked positively irate but Raven took no heed except to push him out the door with a final word.

"Shouldn't _you_ be alerting _your Captain_ as to the whereabouts of his wife?"

Though Logan did want to protest most evidently, he settled on giving a gruff nod of agreement and promised to be back within the hour before taking leave. Raven pushed the door shut with a slightly irritated sigh before turning back to face her charge. At the sight of the girl nearly falling off her own seat, she heaved another heavy sigh that was both fed-up with Logan as it was with her. But there was compassion in those harsh eyes and it was duly pointed at Rogue as she approached. The Captain pulled a chair out of the corner to face Rogue as she spoke. Her voice was blunt and to the point but even so, concern laced its way into her words.

"How is your hand? Do you think it is broken?"

Rogue pulled away her injured hand from her chest. She hadn't taken the time to look at it until then and the sight was not pleasant. Blood, dirt and fresh bruising covered her small hand and it hurt to move it even an inch. Rogue turned it painfully before her own gaze, her teeth gritted as she hissed the air. Raven sympathetically clicked her tongue against top of her mouth.

"You must've caught your knuckles on his teeth my dear. That wasn't a well-aimed punch."

Rogue's gaze found a particularly interesting notch in the floorboards as embarrassment and pain became muddled together. She rested her injured hand against the cool surface of the desk and tried her best to not slip out of her seat. Raven made an effort to catch her down-turned gaze again as an amused smirk spread across her lips.

"Though I don't think I've ever seen someone punch James Howlett and get away with it."

Rogue's embarrassment diminished a little as her pride built but a shred of confidence. She rubbed the forming tears out of her eyes with her free hand as that pride took a firm hold again but nevertheless she could not help but admit folly to this pirate captain.

"Ya must think meh a classic fool."

Raven surprised her by shaking her head.

"Not at all. But you do remind me of someone... She was _almost_ as foolish as you."

Rogue gave a bitterly amused half-chuff of laughter before managing to rasp.

"_Ah am_ a fool…if mah actions are any comparison." 

Raven shook her head, causing Rogue to stare with wonder. Rogue had come to notice how those unusual eyes withheld her true emotional state and yet somehow she was certain that at this moment, she was revealing something to her on a level only those eyes could communicate. Certain suspicions planted seeds into Rogue's thoughts as Raven reasserted her last words.

"You are not a fool my dear. You were lucky however, that you have so many to look out for you. Many a girl has not had the same luck as you…"

As Raven trailed off in her own words, so did her gaze. It slipped to the empty confines of space with a strangely distant look. Her expression became unreadable for a few moments before she seemed to realise herself and her mind returned to the small quarters of the ship. Her expression turned stern again in a fashion that was entirely her own and nothing like the growling James Howlett's. Without a word, she stood and made her way over to a table standing in the far corner of the cabin. She returned to sit with a bottle of whisky and two crystal glasses. She set them on the table and poured a healthy amount into each. Raven barely raised her own glass in a short, silent toast before drowning it down in one, long gulp. Rogue followed swiftly by taking the drink in one swift swig. She was desperate for distraction from the pain in her hand and the swelling in her head but unfortunately the whisky was harder to drown than the Captain had made it look. Throat burning, she coughed what was left of it down and clasped her chest with her only free hand. She heard Raven give a soft chuckle of amusement.

"You had best not do that again until you are fit to drink. That ringing in your head will only worsen with whiskey."

Rogue let out a slight groan as she pinched the bridge of her nose and slumped against her seat. The pain in her hand was beginning to seep into her head, adding to the blaring sensation ringing in her ears. She suddenly regretted taking that free pint of ale at the tavern. Raven seemed to read her thoughts as she gave another sympathetic chuckle before pouring her a goblet of water. Rogue managed to rasp a thank you but it fell on deaf ears. The sound of footfall and raised voices outside the door broke the silence, causing Raven to visibly tense. She held a hand to prevent Rogue from moving. Raven took to her feet, as the door was hastily swung open. Rogue felt her heart lodge itself in her throat.

Remy stepped into the room with haste only to stop halfway through the door. His eyes locked directly on Rogue. Pinned in her spot, she felt those strange eyes speak volumes in parts; First astonishment shone in those red embers only to be replaced by a mixture of relief and anger. His brow set into a frown. She had never seen such a look on his face. It made her uneasy but what was left of her pride didn't let her show it. She tightened her jaw and sat up best she could as he approached her but he was detained when Raven spoke up.

"LeBeau. So nice of you to _finally_ grace us with your presence." 

He stopped mid-stride to face Raven who blocked his path. Rogue noted how she hovered almost between them like a shield. She stood proudly with a hand resting on the hilt of her cutlass. Remy took notice of her weapon at so close a hand and gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement. Rogue was actually surprised by the lack of pleasantries in his response, making her more anxious with each passing word from his lips. He seemed further away from the man she had met more than ever. At least with the façade _Damien Black_ she knew where she stood. But with this _Remy_ she was totally uncertain.

"_Captain Darkholme._ I wonder if y' would mind leaving us for a moment."

It wasn't a question and both women knew it. Raven exchanged a glance with Rogue before answering, slowly.

"Of course… I hope Mister Howlett took the liberty of explaining tonight's events."

Remy gave another stiff nod as he replied coolly.

"_Oui._ He explained _everyt'ing. _I mus't t'ank y' for y' assistance."

Raven picked up her discarded hat from off the table and adjusted it on her head as she replied in a stern tone of voice.

"You seem to be owing me more favours than I am handing out LeBeau."

"And y' will be reimbursed in all good time Raven. Now please, if y' wouldn't mind…"

Raven gave a short nod and made towards the door. However she paused when she reached the open doorway. Her gaze returned to meet Rogue's following stare before she turned to speak to Remy again.

"I sent for my physician to come treat your wife's injuries. I shall see what is keeping him before I take the watch. Goodnight."

And with that final offering given, Raven left. Remy shut the door behind her and kept his hand latched to the doorhandle for a moment. A deep sigh heaved between his shoulders as he slowly turned to face her. He began slowly, his voice heavy with newfound weariness that nestled beside his agitation.

"Do I have t' keep y' here under rope, lock and key _chére_?"

When she said nothing, he hardened his brow into a meaningful scowl and took a shallow stride into the room as he spoke. 

"Do y' 'ave any idea how foolish it was of y' t' run off like dat?"

Rogue felt some of her strength return as she set her expression into a defiant glare. It had some effect. Remy stopped making his way towards her and remained a moment with his feet planted to the floor. When she still said nothing, he let out a deep-held breath and ran a hand over his face in exhaustion. She could feel the frustration in him simmer down as he tried to regain a calm and collected disposition. Though his anger at her actions was still visible, it was now subdued by something else. _Patience_. He had been quick to take notice of her injured hand. He carefully approached her, his voice gentle.

"Let me see dat-"

He reached out for her injured hand that had lain impassively on the desk only for Rogue to snatch it out of his reach as she stood and backed away from him ad far as possible. She kept her expression defiant and unyielding as a look of genuine hurt spread across his face at her actions, only to turn swiftly into exasperation. He reached out for her hand again and when she backed away again, he grew impatient.

"Rogue, y' have t' let_ moi _see dat hand. Y' might have broken some fingers f' all y' know-"

He had gotten but an inch away from her tightly clasped hand when her free hand reached out and slapped him clean across the face with an audible _slap._ Remy stood back slightly only to stare at her as shock spread across his face as visible as the ripe, pink hand-mark on his right cheek. They stood staring at each other a short while before Rogue spoke for the first time. Her voice was dangerously low with warning.

"Do _not_ touch _meh._"

Remy felt the desk behind him as he numbly leant against it. After a short while, he removed his hand from his stinging cheek. A sardonic chuckle escaped him finally before he spoke.

"Guess I deserved dat one…"

Her glare only soured a little more as she crossed her arms carefully and took a defiant stance in spite of her exhaustion. Beads of sweat cooled against her forehead as she made every effort to remain completely in control. All frustrations of the past few months returned in full and pour into her words through gritted teeth.

"Ah'm not doin' anythin' until _ya_ start explaining what the _hell_ is goin' on."

Remy heaved a heavy sigh from his shoulders. He sounded more tired than tender as he spoke.

"_Chére _I _will_ explain everyt'ing _mais_ y' have t' have dat hand looked at-"

He reached again for her hand only for her to slip out of his reach again. She bit back a small cry as her battered fingers brushed against his. The pain of it masked behind her frustrated retort.

"_You_ promised meh that ya would explain everything after we were married! It's past that and ah'm _done_ waitin' for-"

Rogue was cut short by the arrival of the doctor who was polite enough to knock briefly before stepping inside. He was a portly old man with a shiny, balding head. He came in wearing a kindly smile but it quickly weakened with discomfort as he acknowledged Rogue's venomous glare and Remy's frustrated expression. The physician stood a few feet away from the door, one leg bent back in the prepared motion to leave as he spoke.

"Beggin' y' pardon Captain LeBeau, _sir_- I can come back-"

Remy shook his head and ran a hand through his messed auburn hair as he approached the doctor. He reached for the tray in the doctor's hands as he spoke.

"_Merci _Doctor Bardon. I t'ink we can manage wit'out y' assistance tonight. Y' may return t' y' duties."

The doctor looked between the two and nodded, anxious to be leaving the newlyweds before the yelling match resumed. As soon as the door was shut, Rogue opened her mouth to speak only for Remy to raise a hand in mid-air to silence her. He spoke sincerely, his voice wrapped in mild weariness as he spoke.

"_Please chére _let's not do dis yet. Y' are hurt _et_ I am tired. I t'ink we have _both _had enough f' one day. _Please,_ sit down and let me look at dat hand. I assure y' I know what t' do."

As he expected, Rogue was not easily moved by his pleas. He heaved a sigh and took her by the arm without holding back an ounce of strength. She made to shove him away but he was as tall as he was stronger than her. He pushed her down into her seat again near the desk. Frustration found its way through his voice when she tried to move again.

"Dammit Rogue, y' hand needs attention! Don't struggle or I _will_ tie y' t' de chair."

Rogue glared up at him as made one final, futile shove. She hissed back.

"_Ya _wouldn't _dare."_

He matched her glare with a sly albeit peeved expression.

"Try _moi ma chére._ I 'ave de mind t' teach y' a lesson after de stunt y' pulled._"_

"Ah'm _not_ a damned child-"

"Den stop _acting_ like one _et sit still."_

You could slice the frustration in the air with the knife it was so thick. Rogue made one last attempt to wrench her arm free only to brush her injured fingers against the table edge. A muffled cry escaped from between her clenched teeth and she made to grasp her injured hand to her chest again only for Remy to catch it instead. He grasped her wrist gently. When Rogue opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off in a cool voice.

"Dat offer t' tie y' t' de chair still stands."

At her pride's expense and the insistence of the pain, Rogue bit her tongue and _finally_ relented.

Remy ignored her peeved expression as he sat in the chair Raven had occupied and set about inspecting her injuries. He clicked his tongue and gave a disgruntled sigh though his words spoke some relief.

"Y' didn't break any fingers _mais_ y' 'ave some brusin' _et_ y' knuckles are cut…"

His frown furrowed as he gave closer inspection of the cuts. He turned his gaze to meet hers again as he spoke.

"Did y' by any chance cut y' hand on someone's _teeth chére?_"

Rogue found that notch in the floor become all the more fascinating again as she avoided his gaze. She heard him heave another heavy sigh but he said nothing else. Not yet. He told her to keep her hand up and not touch anything with it as he began to rummage around the tray that Doctor Bardon had left them. He stood only to get a pitcher of water and a basin and returned to set it on the table. He added a few smelling ingredients from a few bottles that caused Rogue to wrinkle her nose with suspicion. She voiced her distrust of the concoction.

"What is _that_?"

He had rolled his sleaves and reached for her injured hand in answer only for her to pull back again. She winced but did not defer her suspicious glare. He raised a brow at her in warning as if to say "_We can do dis de hard way or de easy way."_ At that warning, Rogue reluctantly lowered her hand into the china basin herself. The murky white water, though it smelled distinctly of a number of things, was cool and it was quick to sooth her aching hand. He told her to keep her hand in the water and she obliged silently. However when he reached for her face with a cloth he had soaked in the water, she became hesitant again and dodged his attempts. He glowered at her irritably.

"Rogue, y' have a split lip-"

"Then hand meh the cloth. Ah _can_ do it mahself-"

"Y' can barely sit up straight. Now stop bein' stubborn et let me see to it."

His voice was firm and cool and it infuriated her to no end. She almost preferred his charming façade and teasing antics to this firm-toned version. Rogue continued to scowl but she didn't try to evade his hand as he reached out, grasped her chin in one hand and began to gently dab at her bloody lower lip. When the dried blood was cleaned away however, his hand didn't move. He brushed a thumb over the spot.

"Someone punched y' in de face…"

It was more a statement in that suddenly distant tone of voice that escaped his lips. Nonetheless, Rogue nodded slowly to confirm it. Her husband's demeanour changed rapidly again as an exasperated sigh escaped him. His brow furrowed as he spoke in a condescending but considerably _gentler _tone of voice.

"Y' shouldn't have gone off like dat Rogue. It was a _very_ stupid idea."

Rogue felt her diminished anger spark with newfound ammunition. She arched a credulous brow at him.

"Ah got knocked out by one of your _watch dogs_ and woke up on a ship with nothin' but the clothes on mah back an' the door locked. How was _that_ a better situation?"

He matched her glower as he withdrew his hand from her chin.

"Have y' seen y' self _chére? _Y' look like a sea urchin who jus' got de tar beaten out o' dem! _Oui!_ It _was _a better situation dan de one dat led t' _dis!"_

He indicated to her dishevelled appearance expressively. Rogue took the opportunity to look down at herself properly. Her white shirt was stained in a mixture of the Frenchman's and her own blood. Her skin was caked in a thin layer of dirt and grime and her hair was a mess of short, limp curls. Though she hated to admit it…he had a point. She was brought out of her reverie by his disheartened sigh. He leant forward to face her at eye level as he spoke.

"Y' were _safe _here Rogue. John _told_ y' dat I would be returnin' soon t' explain every'ting! Y' did _not_ have t' run off."

Rogue's glare returned to full effect. Her injured hand sloshed slightly in the basin as she straightened in her chair.

"Can ya honestly blame meh for running away? Ya haven't said one thing that's true t' meh since the day we met! How can ya expect meh t' do as you ask when ah can't even trust ya to tell meh the truth? Ah don't know what about ya is _real _or just- just some façade! Ah don't even know your real name!"

For once, her words seemed to have more than just the effect of making him angry. He grew silent and his expression softened to something more unreadable. They sat there a short while as their frustrations stilled to a halt. Finally, he reached out for her injured hand that had surfaced too far out of the water. Blood seeped relentlessly again from the cut over her knuckles as he grasped it and placed it back under the water. When he was sure she wouldn't pull away, he grasped the small cloth and bathed it again in the same water before wrapping it around her injured knuckles. She hissed painfully at the contact.

"_Ah! _Would ya _be more careful?"_

To her surprise he didn't chastise her for her outburst. Instead, he took more care to be gentle as he tied the makeshift bandage loosely around her knuckles. The blood began to clot the fabric and bled into the murky water like swirls of red ink.

"_Désolé chère__." (Sorry)_

Rogue was admittedly stunned to hear _an apology _let alone hear it slip out of his mouth so softly. Her anger lost its edge and she became silent as she watched him. It dawned on her a little later how similar this situation was to when she had been tending to his wounded shoulder except their roles were now quite reversed. Rogue felt her previous anger and frustration burn out until there was little but her exhaustion and a shaky grasp of consciousness left. She became transfixed by his actions in an attempt stay awake as he kept her hand elevated by the edge of the basin, his fingers wrapped gently around her wrist as her hand continued to soak.

"What else happened t' y' tonight?"

She raised her now-heavy gaze only to be surprised to find he was staring at her again, or more that he had been the entire time she had been watching their hands. Those strange red-on-black eyes were warm with reassurance as he waited for her answer. Her gaze fell again as she considered what to tell him. Finally, she managed to rasp.

"Ah thought _James_ filled ya in on the details."

He shook his head.

"Not all of dem."

Rogue bit her lower lip slightly as she hesitated. It felt like it was one thing to admit her foolishness to Captain Darkholme but an entirely different thing to admit it to him. Her brash actions had nearly cost her more than she had bargained for. She could still hear their cruel jeers and catcalls like a never-ending echo in her mind and it caused her to feel positively ill with the memory. She was brought out of her tortured thoughts when she felt something warm slip over her other hand. She looked down to find his other hand gently overlapping her own in a gentle hold. When she looked up, those eyes caught her and did not let her look away. The hypnosis was unavoidable what with the feeling of reassurance and _safeness_ practically radiating off him.

"It's alright. I won't be mad, y' can tell moi. _Je vous promets_." (I promise)

A deep sigh found its way out of her before she began to speak. His hand didn't move from hers and she made no effort to remove it.

"Some man at a tavern…he tripped meh over an' found out what ah was and…bein' drunk ah suppose, he thought it good sport t' make fun of meh an wouldn't let meh go. Ah sliced at his hand with a dagger an' he let go. He got angry of course…then he an' a few other dawgs followed meh an' they-"

She felt something become lodged in her throat- was it her heart? The discomfort made saying the next part too difficult to muster words for. She skipped the more _unsavoury_ details.

"That's when your _watch dog _James-?"

His voice came out in an almost disconnected voice. Like he was there in body but not in spirit.

"_Logan._ He be m' first mate."

She nodded and continued.

"A fight broke out an' the same man grabbed meh from behind…Ah punched him in the face when he tried to…"

Her heart lodged in her throat again as the shadowy memory of the look in her attacker's bloodied face resurfaced in her thoughts. She couldn't get the words out. Chills of revulsion began to tremble through her as the memory of his hands stroking her throat, edging closer to places she reserved for no one resurfaced. She was no stranger to violence but this had been different to the kind of violence she had become accustom to at the hands of her grandfather. It left her feeling revolted and even if it had not gone to the extent Captain Darkholme had warned her about, she felt violated. Those violent hands had marked her, leaving invisible stains on her skin. Rogue didn't realise how much she was trembling or that she had been biting back a sob until she felt Remy's hands moved to cup her face between them. Her gaze levelled with his, her tears blurring her vision. Those red-on-black orbs glowed with warmth, like embers in a fireplace. His voice was soothing as he hushed her gently.

"_Shhh…_ Y' don't have t' explain anymore. It's alright…"

Rogue felt the hot tears streaming down her cheeks and closed her eyes as her head dipped down slightly; embarrassed by her display of weakness. Had she not promised herself she wouldn't be like this again? Her promise seemed to crumble under his gaze. His warm hands continued their efforts, stroking her cheeks and wiping away her tears as he continued to utter soothing words of comfort. She felt whatever determination she had to keep strong and hardened against his efforts crack under the warmth of his touch. She was thankful he didn't go to the extent of pulling her into his arms. She knew she would fall to pieces if he did and what little that was left of her pride wouldn't allow such a thing. However when he asked if she wanted to lie down, she realised just how close he was to accomplishing such a feat. He was kneeling in front of her, his hands still cupped around her tear-stained face. Slowly, she eased out of his hold and nodded mutely at his suggestion. She removed her hand from the basin as she stood up. Rogue was glad to see it wasn't bleeding profusely anymore. However before she could make her way to the small cot bed, Remy stopped her. He held onto the wrist of her injured hand.

"Jus' sit back on de bed _chére_. Should probably bandage dat up first."

He took her silent nod and pushed her gently down to sit on the edge of the mattress. He pulled up one of the chairs and sat himself in it in front of her before he began to expertly wind a fresh bandage around her hand with as much gentleness as possible. Rogue refrained from speaking or going out of her way to berate him when he made the odd mistake of pulling the bandage too hard against her hand. It was a while before either of them spoke. When he finished his task however, he hesitated. Rogue waited, watching as his thumbs drew invisible circles over the bandage-clad back of her hand.

"Y' are right _chére_."

He didn't raise his gaze to meet hers yet. He spoke but his fingers continued to stroke her hand in a more self-soothing motion.

"I haven't been truthful wit' y' et I've given y' every reason t' question m' intentions. How can I expect y' t' do as I ask if y' cannot trust _moi?_"

He finally looked up at her. Rogue felt pinned under those eyes.

"Even though it was a necessity t' keep so much from y' I cannot blame y' f' takin' off as y' did."

At her silent staring, he added with a hint of a familiar smirk.

"Even if it is was a foolish t'ing f' y' t' do in de first place."

Rogue would've berated him if she weren't so exhausted so she settled for a tired scowl. She felt the growing pull of exhaustion and gravity towards the bed as they fell into another silence. Remy had to tug gently on her wrist to get her to stay awake as he spoke gently.

"Ask what y' will Rogue _et_ I will give y' all de answers y' want. _Mais_ perhaps in de mornin' _non?_ Y' need t' rest."

Rogue shook her head as she adjusted herself to sit leant against the wall. Her feet hung over the edge slightly as she spoke.

"Ah want t' know a few things b'fore anythin' else happens."

He gave a disgruntled sigh but nodded. He rubbed the bridge of his nose before telling her to ask her questions.

"Is your real name actually Remy?"

Remy arched a brow at her in a surprised expression. Obviously he had anticipated a more informative or detailed question but he answered nonetheless.

"_Oui_. It is. _Captain _Remy LeBeau t' be more precise."

She nodded sleepily. He wished he could convince her to rest instead of endure these questions that could very well keep till morning. But he knew that she would only put up another fight if he refused. Her next question came as to no surprise.

"So…. You're not a Lord then?"

He couldn't help a small smirk of amusement.

"_Non. _Not a Lord. Are y' disappointed t' learn dat?"

She gave a meek shrug.

"Ah'm not too particular about titles." 

His expression became graver with the weight of her response. Was that guilt she saw kindled in those unusual eyes? He hesitated before answering. He ran a hand through his slightly mussed auburn hair as he spoke.

"_Mais_ y' are particular about names, _oui_?"

She stared at him for a while, her expression unreadable for a few moments until she spoke.

"Ah'm particular about truths."

He nodded in understanding as his gaze slipped to the floor again. Another unsettled silence fell between them until Remy was certain she had fallen asleep only to look and find her staring at her hands. It was then he noticed how her fingers fiddled with the cuff edges of her coat- _his_ coat, he quickly realized. He couldn't help but smirk a little. The coat was a little big for her frame, the cuffs of the sleaves extended past her knuckles even though the sleeves had gathered high around her elbows.

"What are ya starin' at?"

Remy caught her bemused expression and grinned.

"Jus' dat…_mon_ coat looks a _lot_ better on y' den it does on _moi_. I'm flattered y' t'ought t' wear it."

His smirk broadened as Rogue suddenly stopped fiddling with the cuff of the sleave. He chuckled.

"No need t' stop on m' account."

She scowled at him.

"Ya can have it back-" 

She tried to loosen the shoulders by wriggling but it only caused her to wince as her injured hand got caught in the sleeve. He was holding her to keep her still before she could try again.

"Y' hold onto it f' now _chére._ It look better on y' anyway,_ non?_"

She matched his smirking face with a glower and made to push away his warm hands that were wrapped firmly around her upper arms to keep her still. He let go but only to move one hand to her forehead. The smirk across his face faded to a more severe expression as he turned his hand to briefly feel her cheeks.

"T'ink y' comin' down wit' a fever _chére_. Y' best get some rest now. Sleep it off."

Rogue wasn't at all surprised. Her head had been blaring this whole time with a mixture of dizziness and a dulled aching, it was a wonder she wasn't unconscious yet. But for her pride, she would be asleep that minute.

To her surprise, Remy stood and got the water pitcher and poured some fresh water into the basin as he held a new cloth in between. With the wet cloth in hand, he sat down before her and began to gently press it to her forehead, cheeks and neck. Rogue didn't have the energy to insist she could do it herself. The coolness of the wet cloth eased her a little but she soon felt the room shift sideways as she slipped into the comfort of the bed. Her eyes grew heavier as she turned onto her back with a disgruntled sound. She barely noticed him remove her boots or when he scooped her up in his arms just a few inches off the bed and adjusted her in the cot so that she lay with her head on the pillow. A few minutes later, she heard him pour the rest of the water into the basin and the coolness of the wet cloth returned to her face. She closed her eyes at the soothing sensation and let out a deeply held breath.

Remy watched as her eyes fluttered open again. Those emerald eyes were glazed over with exhaustion but even so…they were beautiful. He folded the wet cloth and rested it on her forehead again. He took the calm moment to look her over. She was a far cry from the vision of loveliness he had married yesterday in her men's apparel, dishevelled appearance and short-cut hair. He fingered a white lock of hair and sighed heavily.

"Y' _had _t' cut y' hair _ma chére?_"

He hadn't expected a reply. Her rasp of a response caught him off guard.

"Thought it'd be more convincin'…passin' mahself off as a boy an' all…"

He liked how despite her lulled state of exhaustion her Southern drawl managed to roll off her lips like warm honey. He couldn't help tracing a finger through her new haircut, down her jawline and back to the wet cloth on her forehead.

He spoke softly, a warm smirk on his lips.

"Don't t'ink anyone could _not _notice what y' really are _ma chére._ Even wit' y' new haircut _et_ _mon_ coat."

He tugged playfully at the collar and she let out a small sniff of amusement as she closed her eyes again. Her hand deftly came to rest over her face and brush against his lingering hand. He blinked back his surprise when he felt her fingers close over his in a weak squeeze. She said nothing to explain her actions when she released the pressure. Remy found himself craving the pressure of her hand against his. It was the closest thing to her trusting him he had felt since their _heated_ interlude in the Inn the previous night. He found his other hand stroking her face before he could chastise himself. If she were conscious, she wouldn't be letting him so close and while he couldn't blame her for it, even so…it was far too tempting not to take advantage and at least pretend that she trusted him...needed him.

_Being needed_, he sighed. That was a first.

"Remy?"

He broke from his trail of thought at her voice. He turned to find she still kept her eyes closed but he sensed she was still awake.

"_Oui _Rogue?"

"Don't think this changes anythin' between us but… thank you…"

He gave her a bemused look.

"What for _chére_?"

He didn't get an answer. She had fallen asleep.

_**Hardest Chapter I've had to write in a while. I wanted to put so much into this and I know I have but we're not quite out of the jungle yet.**_

_**Note for **_Hope Hannigan**: If you could let me know if I need to change any of the small translations I'd appreciate it darl'!**

**Also, will go back over this to check for spelling/grammar mistakes. Just wanted to FINALLY post this chapter up!**

**REVIEW! **

**-Gams**


	26. New Surroundings

_**Thanks for the reviews everyone! Appreciate every one of them!  
**_

_**-Gams**_

_**Chapter Twenty-Five – New Surroundings **_

_Choked and frightened gasps became entwined with the sound of water lapping against the icy walls. She sobbed, and they echoed too. The cold was unbearable. She had always hated the rush of cold nipping at her skin when she jumped into the river. But this wasn't the momentary rush of cold before adjusting to the temperature of river water. This was freezing. This was like a thousand needles jabbing at her skin at once. It felt like ice was hollowing out her bones and coating her teeth, causing them to chatter noisily._

_The darkness made it worse. _

_She kicked her legs feverishly to keep herself afloat. Her breath turned to mist in the air as she scraped her fingers against the rough walls, trying to grasp enough of the uneven surface to help her in her attempts to climb. She fell several times before deciding to just hang on. To hang on until someone found her…until someone wondered where she had gone…or heard her cries…_

Rogue woke with a startled gasp formed on her lips, only to wince instead. She looked down on her bandaged hand as it trembled slightly before her. She had sat up too abruptly and brushed her injured hand against the bedding- wait, _bedding? _

Rogue frowned as she traced the folds of the bed sheets that were wrapped around her waist. Reality began to work its way back into her thoughts as her gaze traced the folds to her feet. As her breathing calmed to an even pace, she took in the rest of her surroundings. Light poured from the windows, there wasn't a trace of darkness in the small room. She was dry and warm in the small cabin cot. She was neither cold nor struggling in ink-black water. Her skin was warm and flushed, not icy and white as snow.

An irritable sigh escaped her as she fell back against the pillow. She was _safe._

The mixture of fright and pain had forced wakefulness upon her but she was not ready to leave it just yet. Her eyes adjusted to the light that poured from the window. Her thundering heart slowly returned to a moderate pace as she stared into the ceiling boards.

She had not had _that_ nightmare in what felt like an age and yet it was as if it were as fresh in her mind as it had been the day it happened…

Rogue heaved a frustrated sigh as she closed her eyes, her brow creasing with agitation as she massaged the bridge of her nose. After a few moments, she shifted carefully onto her side and rested her injured hand on the pillow edge. The memory of the nightmare began to lose its tight hold as she relaxed into the mould of the cot. Soon the sound of sloshing, icy water became distant in her mind and she willed herself to take in the sounds and smells of the surrounding cabin.

The creaking of the room was the first and most distinct sound but it soon became a part of the background that one forgets to listen for, like wind pushing through the trees. The muffled sound of footfall and rough voices came next but they were so incoherent and far away that she stopped trying to eavesdrop. The faint smell of the ocean was keen on her senses, followed by the indistinct smell of varnish and wood, fresh bread and cheese, apples-

Rogue's eyes flew open as her stomach turned with want at the smell of food. When was it she had last ate anything? Following her senses, she gently sat up and turned towards the window only to spot a tray sitting on the desk. The inviting smell of fresh bread and apples was easy to accept. She also was pleased to find she had no need to steady herself or double-back. Her headache was long gone. With a steady step, she approached the tray with growing hunger. A small, fresh loaf bread and cheese and a smaller plate of fruit (mostly apples) were laid out neatly on the tray. Rogue picked up what she deemed to be the most potent looking green apple and pressed it to her lips. She inhaled the freshness and smiled before taking an eager bite. The sweet tainted sourness was instant and caused her to make a gratified sound and smile about it as she sat down on the window seat to finish it. She never thought she would be so glad to see food again. In fact, she felt as if she hadn't eaten in days.

She devoured the bread and cheese without a thought for standing etiquette. Her Aunt Carrie wasn't there to lecture her on _how a lady shouldn't stuff her face full of food at the first chance. _Rogue gave a small, smug chuckle as she slumped into the few pillows tucked on the window seat. She would _never_ have to stand on ceremony just to please that woman ever again. One of the newfound perks of being whisked away by her wayward husband, she mused with a sly smirk.

"They have no power over meh anymore…"

The words slipped over her lips in no more than a whisper but they resonated deeply within her. The idea of being free of her relatives had been something she had dreamed about, wished for on shooting stars and cried for when she said her prayers as a child. When she had grown out of her childhood self, she had begun to realise that her chances of running away would have been slim if not a fool's errand. As recluse as John Delmar was, he had connections. She could have run away but she would not have been able to stop running. The _hounds_ her Grandfather would have sent would have kept on her trail until she was grey with age and would have dragged her back kicking and screaming.

Rogue exhaled the deep breath she had been holding only to sigh irritably when Remy's face popped into her thoughts. Like his physical counterpart, he appeared without warning in her trail of thoughts and reaped all the usual kinds of mystery and confusion. Her brow furrowed as she took a rough bite from her second apple.

"How he pulled off _this _fool's errand ah can only imagine…"

Of course she intended to learn how as soon as he appeared. She would not be led blindly in the dark without knowing what she was in for.

She tore another bite from her apple and wiped the juice that escaped from the corner of her mouth.

She wouldn't be _anyone's_ puppet anymore.

Finishing the apple, she threw the core ungraciously at the tray. To her annoyance, it rebounded with the force and ended up landing with a roll under the desk. Rogue heaved a disgruntled sigh and rolled her eyes as she moved down onto her hands and knees and crawled under the table. When she rose from the under the desk with the culprit apple core in hand, she made to put it _gently_ back on the tray only to stop suddenly when her gaze fell on something she'd failed to notice sitting on the tray. A small parchment scroll rested on the edge of the bread plate, poking out from behind the cheese. Rogue reached for it only to stop short when her fingers brushed deftly at something else that was soft and delicate against her skin. Her brow furrowed with curiosity as she grasped both things in hand only to stop again in mid-air.

Clasped between a neatly tied piece of string and the neck of the scroll was a white flower. It was unlike most flowers she'd seen back in England. The flower was folded between two leathery green leaves and shaped like a trumpet. The petal edges formed a star-like shape with five points. Curious, she raised it to her nose and inhaled. She was surprised by the sweetness but even more so by the strange likeness to the smell of warm chocolate. For closer inspection, she held it up into the light. She noticed that the edges of the petals were outlined a faint pink colour.

Rogue brushed a finger over the edge of one of the curved points of the petal. She didn't have to guess as to who had made a gift of the flower or the note.

She set the flower down as she unravelled the small scroll.

_Bon Matin Chére,_

_I promise I will return this afternoon so we can talk. In the meantime, breakfast is on the table, your trunk is at the foot of the bed and the door is locked for __your__ safety. _

_Sincerely yours, _

_Remy_

Rogue gave a haughty sniff at the mention of the _safety precaution_. Nevertheless his promise of _actually_ talking did send chills of anticipation through her skin. He was going to explain everything. She was _finally_ going to get answers to her questions. The idea of finally shedding some light on all the uncertainty was a relief and yet a surreal sense of anticipation and anxiety nagged at her thoughts.

Rogue frowned down at the flower still in her hand. She began to pace the room as she twisted the flower stem between her fingers. She considered her questions, considered the answers he might give her and the suspicions she had come to harbour over the last few short months. She was certain that he was a_ pirate. _The livid talk she had eavesdropped on between Remy and John in the inn had left her suspicious but his admission to being a Captain was nothing less than a confirmation.

"_Captain Remy LeBeau t' be more precise…"_

Without really meaning to, she began to compare the names he had given her. _Lord Damien Black. Captain Remy LeBeau. Lady Anna-Marie Black. Anna-Marie LeBeau…Rogue LeBeau…_

She came to a standstill in the middle of the room, the flower still twisting between her fingers. She bit down on her lower lip. Was it wrong to like how that sounded? _Rogue LeBeau._ She absentmindedly murmured her new name under her breath only to stop herself in the act. She ran her left (uninjured) hand through her hair and sighed her frustration. She began to pace again.

"_Damn it._ Ya can't go thinkin' lahke that now. Ya don't _really _know him. It's just a name…"

Rogue came to a stop at the end of the bed. She eyed her familiar trunk with consideration before deciding that she needed to distract herself from thinking about Remy too much. A change of clothes and a wash would do her good in any case. However her hand had barely pushed the lid open when she hesitated. The sudden realisation practically hit her on the head. She looked down at herself to find she wasn't wearing the filthy clothes she had fallen asleep in. She didn't remember slipping into her night shift. She lightly clasped the fabric of her own nightgown between her fingers. Her bandages looked fresh and clean and her busted lip felt less tenderised.

"How did ah…"

Rogue felt the beginnings of a flush creep up her neck. Whether it was from embarrassment or anger, she wasn't entirely sure of. Nonetheless, she ignored _both_ sets of feelings and began digging through her things with ferocious intent. She was relieved to find her mother's box of things was still tucked between her clothes. Subconsciously she reached around her neck and heaved a sigh of relief when she clasped her mother's pearls and her own engagement ring wrapped around it. She decided to keep them there for safekeeping. Her injured hand had proved to be a painful nuisance so she made no further effort to use it as she pulled out her clothes. She had been lead to believe that once they reached Paris, her wardrobe would be replenished with new gowns, leaving her with none but her wedding dress with her. She silently thanked her stars as she pulled on a pair of dark breeches. She would've taken a pair of breeches and a chemise over a monstrosity of a gown _any day_.

She had barely finished pulling on her boots with one hand when she heard the distinct sound of a lock clicking. Her eyes darted towards the door with a sudden rush of excitement and anxiety. Was it afternoon already? Her heartbeat rang through her ears at a fast pace until the door swung open only to be shortcut when a familiar face but not the one she had anticipated appeared in the doorway.

"Good afternoon Rogue."

Captain Darkholme's polite greeting was not entirely ill met in the least but something on Rogue's face must have made her think otherwise, for not a moment later she arched a questioning brow at her.

"You look almost disappointed my dear."

Rogue caught the sly twinkle in the woman's amber eyes as she shook her head vigorously.

"Not at all, ah'm grateful for the visit _Captain Darkholme_."

The cunning-eyed Captain's mouth twitched with a slight smirk as she made her way to a vacant seat.

"Are you sure? I could have sworn at the look on your face, you were hoping to see…"

Her amber gaze shifted briefly from the younger woman's face only to catch a glimpse of the open note on the food tray.

"A certain _demon-eyed_ Captain perhaps?"

Rogue didn't like how much gratification Captain Darkholme got out of her reaction but she was proud enough not to point it out. The Captain was mercifully quiet on the subject from then onwards. She offered a kind smile, another act of mercy.

"How is your hand my dear? Is there any improvement?"

Like a dog that raised its head at the mention of its name, Rogue's injured hand fidgeted slightly against her knee, as she remained seated on the edge of the bed. She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Healin' slowly. How long was ah asleep?"

Raven grasped one of the leftover apples. She didn't think to ask, merely took a bite of the apple in hand. She was polite enough to swallow before answering simply.

"A night and two days."

She elaborated further at Rogue's perplexed expression.

"You were in and out of consciousness with a high temperature for about a day and a half. Your fever finally broke yesterday afternoon. You caused quite a stir in that husband of yours, my dear. I don't believe I've seen him quite so _fretful._.."

Rogue winced inwardly; her shoulders slumped with the weight of her embarrassment. After a few moments of looking at the floor and avoiding the Captain's obviously amused expression and knowing gaze, she managed a reply. A heavy sigh blew past her lips and wisped through her shortened bangs.

"Ya must think ah'm quite the _classic_ _damsel in distress_ by now_._"

Captain Darkholme uttered a throaty chuckle at the younger woman's dry suggestion.

"Not at all. Tis only a natural reaction to exertion and injury. A few days rest probably did you a world of good."

Rogue felt a little more at ease at her reasoning. She fiddled absentmindedly at the edge of her bandages as she spoke up again.

"What time is it?"

Raven fished out a gold pocket watch from one of her coat pockets. When she replied _'Not yet noon'_ Rogue's heart fell a little. It must have shown, for a considering moment later Raven made a suggestion.

"Would you care for a walk about the ship? Some fresh, sea air may do you some good I believe."

The Captain was on her feet and at the door before Rogue could manage an answer. She decided quickly to just follow the older woman's lead. She didn't think it was so much a violation of Remy's instructions if Captain Darkholme was the one with a key on her person and the door standing ajar. They stepped into a small passageway that was filled with a variety of odd supplies. Rogue was certain they were standing in a closet until the Captain pulled open another door that stood parallel with the other. The Captain ushered her out quickly before carefully shutting and locking the door behind them. Only it didn't look like a door once it was closed. The door appeared to be carved to look like the same decorative wood panels of the surrounding walls. One would not suspect it to be a door if they had not just stepped through it themselves. Rogue turned slowly to face the rest of the room only to be rendered silent with amazement. She was standing in a grander cabin than the one she had occupied these last few days. It was larger by a great deal with a four-poster bed tucked into one wall while a grand mahogany desk stood rooted by the wide windows. Rogue had no doubt this was the Captain's cabin.

"I think your husband is presently at the helm _pestering _my first mate. I would imagine you would like to speak to him?"

Rogue managed a nod and made to follow but her gaze still wandered about the details of the cabin. The walls were carved with the likeness of ravens and thorny vines and roses. Its detail was fascinating to an appreciative eye and Rogue couldn't help but take her time, running her fingers over the polished carvings and take in the rich furnishings that surrounded her as she made for the door. However she stopped when she noticed a familiar sight. A tall plant with sprouting flowers stood by the cabin door, its vines creeping up the walls until they touched the ceiling. Rogue clasped one of the flowers in her hand. It was identical to the flower Remy had left her.

"_Portlandia grandiflora. _Also known as the _Bell Flower_. It's a native plant to Cuba, Jamaica." 

Raven grasped one and brought her knife to the stem and cut it away gently. She offered it with a kind smile to her. Rogue took it politely, not failing to think of the belle flower still sitting on her table in the room behind.

"Quite lovely, aren't they?"

Rogue nodded as she twisted its short stem between her fingers. The two women were quick to move onwards. Sunlight poured through the cabin door, causing Rogue to squint in until her eyes adjusted. Once familiar with daylight again, she took in the new sight of the stretch of deck space, the unruly crew scattered across it and the open horizon of endless sea and clear blue skies. There was still a wintery chill on the air that caused her to draw her coat closer to her as the wind practically blew through her. The smell of salt in the air coated her senses as she followed Captain Darkholme down the main deck. The Captain strode proudly, like she owned the very air that they breathed and struck a few sharp orders to the busy crew. Rogue furrowed her brow in curious confusion.

"_You_ are the Captain of this vessel?" 

The Captain turned away from a pair of swabbing crewmen to face her. Smirking, her amber eyes practically gold with power and light she replied with a dramatic bow.

"Indeed. I have the pleasure of welcoming you aboard the _Mystique._ I hope your stay will be more pleasant than the state of your arrival my dear."

Rogue managed a small half-smile of amusement at the Captain's obvious flare for drama as she righted herself again. She looked about the deck with new eyes now as she took in what was the infamous _Mystique_. The ship was grand there was no doubt. Painted in flares of raven black and a dark plumb purple and hints of gold. Decorative ravens, much like the one on the hilt of the blade she had entrusted her, were carved artfully into the exteriors of the ship. Every vague recollection of her father's ships Rogue had was reaffirmed by what she saw of the _Mystique's _comings and goings. The deck was well kept and filled with a crew of at least a hundred. Many began working a little more _enthusiastically_ as they walked the deck at a leisurely pace with Captain Darkholme barking the occasional order or otherwise casting a meaningful glare to an unproductive looking crewman. Rogue was uncertain whether to be stunned or full of admiration for the female Captain. She had heard a whisper or two about the infamous and unusual Captain of the Mystique. She was scarce in her breed of Captains. She could understand how a woman such as Raven Darkholme could rise to such a powerful position in the world of men. While she knew very little of this woman, her character as far as she knew was proof of her worth and ability. But _how_ did _this_ woman hone such position and power? She was tempted to ask on more than one occasion in their walk about the main deck but propriety held her back. Who was she to ask such questions? So instead, she enquired about where they were headed.

"To Jamaica my dear. Your husband's ship and the remainder of his crew remain there. We will part ways once you and your husband are returned to the_ Devil's Revenge._"

Rogue's brow furrowed with confusion.

"Why did he leave it there?" 

Raven's expression turned sober with the subject.

"The authorities will be looking for _anything_ associated with the infamous _Le Diable Blanc_. Unfortunately for our dear Cajun Captain, his ship is a dead give away. And from the months he spent holed away in _Merry Old England_, his need to be inconspicuous was, I believe, rather essential to his plans."

The Captain turned away on that final note only for Rogue to follow in a haze of contemplation and a new taste for curiosity.

"How is it ya know him, Captain?"

The Captain gave a small chortle.

"_Oh_. I have known him since he was a mere pup on his father's ship. A little devil he was. _Still is,_ I believe although a little taller perhaps."

Rogue stood quiet in consideration as the Captain turned for a moment to bark orders a dawdling young cabin boy. When the boy was on his way (with a small yelp of fright at his Captain's warning glare) Rogue asked what her curiosity bid.

"Is this why ya agreed to help him?"

The Captain's cat-like eyes shone brighter as she spoke with a mischievous tone.

"Perhaps. He also offered me _ample compensation_ in return for my hospitalities. _Now that_ is what sways a Captain's interests my dear; an offer that the other party cannot let pass. Remember that."

Raven began to ascend the small stairwell to the quarterdeck as Rogue replied.

"May ah ask what he offer ya?"

The Captain stopped mid-step and turned. Her eyes were like closed drapes, hinting at an answer but not quite revealing all.

"A favour from _Le Diable Blanc."_

The enigmatic reply from the Captain only worsened Rogue's curiosity but instead of asking like a naïve little sparrow with too many questions, Rogue thought better of asking what that favour entitled. Besides, she was not given the opportunity to do so. She followed the Captain up to the quarterdeck only to cast her eyes on a familiar figure standing near the helm. Her breath caught for a moment. Remy stood with his back to the wall and his arms crossed in easy contentment. An amused smirk was spread across his face as he watched John and a dark-haired woman clad much like Captain Darkholme in fitted men's attire. The two bantered back and forth like a pair of old crows…or lovers.

"_Oh_ come on Sheila, ya can't stay mad at me always! It's been over three months! I thought you'd at least be a _bit_ happy t' see me?" 

The dark haired _'Sheila'_ turned her nose to the air with a disgruntled _puh_ on her lips. She refused to meet John's blue, hopeful (but clearly amused) gaze as she adjusted the helm wheel between her hands. She was beautiful as she was angry. The red of her coat was a stark colour against the dark wood surroundings and seemed destined to match her temperament too as she hissed back.

"_You_ _left _for three months without so much as a note or a _goodbye_ John Allerdyce and you expect _me_ to welcome you back with open arms!?"

John ran a hand through his fiery hair self-consciously. A silent sigh of exasperation went through him as he pleaded his case.

"I did leave a note! I told little Illyana to tell you that I'd be back soon-"

"Back soon usually implies a _few hours _or _days at least!_ You took three months!"

There was a silent pause in which John grappled for a new answer. Finally;

"Well I've come back now haven't I?"

The raven-haired woman glowered at him dangerously. Rogue had no doubt that if not for the Captain's timely noise of acknowledgement, the woman would've flogged John senseless. Instead, she turned to catch Captain Darkholme's eye and at that, stiffened and turned her back on John as he stood anxiously to the side. She addressed the Captain with anger still seeping from her words.

"Captain Darkholme, requesting main deck supervision duties so that I do _not_ throw this no good _cur _into the Atlantic."

Captain Darkholme gave an authoritative nod of approval.

"Granted. However, I would like to introduce you to our guest first. _Rogue_, this is my First Mate, Wanda Maximoff."

Wanda's angry disposition dispersed a little as she held out her hand to shake. Rogue raised her hand to take it only to wince slightly when the movement disagreed with her injured right hand. She hesitated awkwardly, and muttered a vague apology and withdrew her hand. Wanda didn't appear offended, in fact she eyed her hand conspicuously before speaking wryly.

"_Rogue _is it? You don't strike me as one. Although, from the state of you, you look like you gave whatever _rogue _who did it a hard time."

Rogue caught the glint of ironic amusement in her eyes but tightened her jaw.

"Ya don't exactly strike meh as a ship's _First Mate_."

Wanda gave a huff of amusement as a truly amused grin quirked the corner of her painted red mouth. She turned to Captain Darkholme and called amusedly.

"I think we have ourselves a _kindred spirit _here Captain!"

Captain Darkholme had already taken her First Mate's place at the helm when she replied in an even dry tone.

"We may indeed Mistress Maximoff but it's hardly fair for you to be placing judgement on _Mrs LeBeau_ based on mere appearances when you yourself were not so different than she some years ago..."

The Captain's voice became laced with emphasised warning though she did nothing else but continue steering the ship. Rogue caught a glance between Remy and John and was surprised to find that their once playful and anxious expressions turned solemn. Rogue was the only one not privy to the details behind the sudden graveness in the air but she felt it just as keenly as the others. She waited for answers but none were offered. She was caught off guard however when she turned to find Wanda scrutinizing her again. Her piercing silver-blue gaze held in place as she spoke in a hushed, low tone.

"I hope the bastard that did that lost more than a few teeth for your troubles, _Rogue_." 

She eyed her injured hand to emphasise her words before stepping past her and down to the main deck. Rogue watched her slip into the fray of the main deck for a few moments with her inner contemplations clearly written across her face. Rogue was certain that Wanda knew more about her ordeal than most could comprehend though she didn't put it to audible details. Perhaps her jesting about "_kindred spirits"_ was not so unlikely.

"I t'ought y' et Wanda would get along _chére_. I wager y' will be t'ick as t'ieves by de time we get t' Jamaica."

Rogue turned slowly only to be caught by surprise anyway. She had recognized him by voice, but his closeness of no more than three inches from her had surprised her. She glared irritably at him.

"Did ya Mama _ever_ teach ya anythin' about personal space?"

His grin broadened with amusement as he lessened the gap between them by an inch. Rogue stood defiantly still as he gently wrapped his hands over her uninjured hand.

"_Non._ _Mais_ she _did_ tell me t' mind mon manners around a lady. Et t' enquire after her health if she has been unwell."

With a wink and a smirk, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Her warning scowl only added more amusement to those unusual eyes.

"_Bonjour ma chére._ I hope y' feeling better today, _oui_?"

Ignoring the burning in her cheeks, Rogue replied shortly that she was feeling perfectly well and quickly removed her hand from his. Of course, he wasn't convinced and quick as lightening gently grasped her injured hand and began to inspect it. His fingers traced the bandages across her knuckles as he spoke gently.

"We should change de bandages soon et check de wound is healing properly. Doctor Barden assures me y' won't 'ave too much scarring."

Rogue nodded mutely in understanding. After a few moments and he didn't release her hand, she slipped her hand gingerly out of his. He made no effort to keep it though his once charming bravado did diminish. Determination strengthened her as questions returned to the surface of her mind. She was done with _pleasantries_. She wanted _answers._

"Ah think its tahme ya explained everythin' now."

He was silent a moment, his gaze unmoving from her until finally he seemed to register her words. He turned to John and gave a civil order to see to his duties before grasping her hand again and closing the inches between them to whisper in her ear.

"Not here _chére._ Come, we'll return t' y' room."

She followed without even objecting to him holding her hand.

XXX

_**So sorry this took so long to update! It was a tough call writing this chapter and I've added some things I didn't have planned. Hope you enjoyed the new addition of familiar faces!**_

_**Review! **_

_**-Gams**_


	27. Shedding Light

**Chapter Twenty-Six – Shedding Light **

Undoubtedly, the walk back to Captain Darkholme's cabin was considerably different to its predecessor. In fact, it seemed that as much as the crew were fearfully respectful of their Captain, who was unusual enough being a woman and a fearsome one at that, they gave Captain LeBeau a considerably wider, silent breadth of space. As he led her down the main deck, Rogue noticed many recoil and shift away with their gaze downcast or back turned. It was as if they believed that if they did not see him, he would not notice them. As far as Rogue could tell he didn't give them a second glance but their behaviour struck her as rather odd. One man in particular, a young man not much older than her, began to tremble with trepidation as they approached. His gaze became transfixed on the mop head as it slapped against the deck in a frantic motion. His trembling was barely hidden behind his task of mopping as he shied away from Captain LeBeau's approach. Rogue found herself blatantly turning her head to watch his reaction as they passed him by. His whole body shook with a sigh of relief before he made the sign of the cross and moved to the next part of the deck to swab.

Why do they fear him so badly?

Rogue's brow remained furrowed with curious confusion as she turned back to face ahead. As Remy lead her away, his hand rested gently at the base of her spine to guide her until they made it to the main cabin door. Rogue felt her stomach fall with anxious anticipation only for it to give way to surprise as a figure approached them. It was the first man that didn't give them the wide birth of the deck and it took Rogue a whole of two moments to recognise the stocky man in the navy-blue coat. Her expression instantly shifted to a well-practice scowl whilst her vision sharpened on the burly First Mate.

"Logan. I believe y' remember my wife?"

Logan inhaled one last puff of his half-gone cigar before flicking it over board. Having only seen him briefly in the dark of night, she was surprised to find that his scowl seemed permanently etched into his face. He arched a dark brow at her expression, his mouth a thin line as his hazel eyes scrutinized her in equal measure.

"Chére…may I introduce my First Mate. James Howlett."

At the introduction, Logan tipped his head in a mild show of courtesy. Rogue didn't unfasten her scowling expression but did offer a nod of acknowledgement.

There was no mistaking the quip of amusement in Remy's expression as he vigilantly watched the pair's exchange. When neither did or said anything else, he folded his arms caught his First Mate's eye. He gestured meaningfully, with a defined glance towards Rogue. He waited a mere moment, rolling on the back of his heals in anticipation before Logan finally took the plunge.

Logan gave a mild growl-turned-sigh of resignation but instead of appeasing his Captain's unspoken wishes, he busied himself with pulling another cigar from the confines of his coat. With the fresh cigar clenched between his lips, he pulled out a loose matchstick and proceeded to light the end. He exhaled a fresh puff of smoke before he finally spoke up.

"Good t' see you up n' about again, kid. Surprised you found your sea legs so quick."

As he exhaled a fresh plume of smoke, he shifted his gaze to meet hers again only for it to slip to her injured hand that she kept braced against her rib cage.

"That right-hook of yours could use some work though."

With a boarder-line respectful tip of his imaginary hat, he proceeded to step past the wide-eyed pair. So assured of his response and the silent reply it entitled, he didn't count for Rogue to turn her head as he walked away, or the dry retort that followed with it.

"Ah'd be happy to practice if ya'll are up for another round Mister Howlett."

There seemed to be a sudden drop in the noise amongst those on the quarterdeck as Logan paused, mid-step with his hand on the handrail. The smirk that had been hinting at the corner of Remy's mouth died on impact of Logan's words however as soon as the words that escape Rogue's mouth entered his head, he was obliged to grin like a mad-man and watch his First Mate's reaction to his wife's open threat. However, his initial reaction aside, Logan chose only to turn a look over his shoulder at the Southern spitfire. With a gleam in his eyes one could mistake for amusement, he gave a rough scoff and replied almost good-humouredly.

"I'll hold ya to it, kid."

With that, the burly First Mate walked off and the level of noise on deck amplified dramatically by his abrupt bellow of orders. Rogue turned away, scowling and flushed, only to find her grinning husband staring back at her. When he neither said anything nor moved, she grew annoyed and burst out.

"What?"

Smirking, Remy raised a hand to tuck that stubborn streak of white that had fallen over her eyes back into place.

"Chére I do believe dat is de closest t'ing to reprimanded Logan Howlett has been to since…well, ever. So long as I have known him."

Rogue fought the urge to smirk.

"And how long would that be exactly?" 

Remy opened the cabin door and dramatically gestured for her to go inside.

"Nearly ten years."

Rogue didn't move towards the door, instead her head turned and she set her gaze on Logan. He was barking orders at the young deck swabber Rogue had noticed beforehand. Rogue couldn't help a small smirk of amusement.

"Has he always been so…like that?"

A chuckle rumbled through him as he too turned to look at the small spectacle that was taking place on the deck. Remy offered her another winsome grin.

"Oh y' don't know de half of it chére. Trust moi, y' will come t' know of Logan by reputation et example. He's a hard man through et through mais, he's been a loyal First Mate from de first day on deck et I trust him wit' mon life."

Though he didn't say it, Rogue was certain that was his way of saying she should trust in him too.

Minutes later, the door shut quietly behind them as Remy led her through the Captain's cabin and finally to the secreted cabin beside it. He asked her to sit, his voice full of his usual enigmatic charm and his eyes their usual fill of warmth. However, a slight change occurred in his usual pace as he gently guided her to the window seat. When he sat down in the chair he pulled up in front of her, he did so with a heavy sigh that seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders. It made her doubly anxious. He stared at the floor a few moments before catching her gaze but did not speak yet. She wished she could read that look with certainty. He remained silent for a few more moments. Finally, she broke the silence. She was stunned by the quietness of her own voice.

"Well?"

His attention seemed to snap back into place again. It was odd to see him so uncharacteristically quiet but to see him so…worried set her on edge. She thought there no limitation to his acting skills or charming bravado. Rogue bit anxiously on her lower lip. Perhaps she was wrong? She took in his appearance with new eyes. Though he didn't seem to notice, his fingers tapped anxiously against his knees in a sort of release for his nerves. Despite her better judgement, she found herself wanting to ease that barely veiled anxiety. He jumped slightly when her hand gently touched his, causing his incessant finger tapping to cease immediately and for the semblance of bravado to snap back in place. Their eyes met suddenly and deadlocked. Rogue offered a suggestion.

"Startin' at the beginning might help?"

A spark of that familiar charm and bravado returned to his eyes and a hint of a smirk grew in the corner of his mouth. He locked his fingers gently around her hand as he spoke.

"I can't say dis any other way ma chére… y' might want t' prepare y' self. What I 'ave t' say may come as…a shock."

His gaze never faltered but she saw the glint of regret in those eyes. As much as he was trying to hide it under that bravado of his, it seeped through. She surprised herself by her reply.

"It's- it's alright. Ah think ah can handle it. Whatever it is…"

She took a deep breath, her gaze anchored on their entwined hands. Almost subconsciously he took to circling the top of her hand with his thumb in a soothing motion that seemed to push away the rising panic in her thundering heart and the seeping guilt in his.

"Just start at the beginning," she urged lightly again, her gaze finally shifting to meet his.

He heaved a heavy sigh and, finally, began. He silently refused to let go of her hands as he spoke.

"Do y' have any recollection of a man named Jean-Luc LeBeau, chére?"

Rogue's brow creased with bemusement. Of all the beginnings to this revelation of truths she had imagined, this was not one of them. Nonetheless she tested the name Jean-Luc LeBeau a few times in her thoughts but only vague recollections arose. A man with the same kind of bravado and charm as Remy conjured in her thoughts but she was unsure if it were only mind playing tricks. Though she couldn't put the name to a face, the name did strike familiar.

"The name…sounds familiar ah guess. Is he your… father?"

Remy gave a light nod. Rogue grew impatient with his questions. She didn't understand the significance. Was this really anything to do with their current predicament?

"Ah don't understand. What has your father got to do with this?"

She felt the drawing of circles on her warm hands cease but the pressure of his hold increased slightly. She realised then that she had made to move away but his hands kept her rooted. When she looked up again from their hands, his eyes pleaded and held her in place.

"Y' will 'ave t' bear wit' moi. Mon Pére has more t' do wit' dis dan y' t'ink et I can only explain dis one way."

In spite of her confusion and questions, she forced herself to be patient and nodded in agreement. He went back to drawing circles into her skin as he continued.

"Mon Pére et y' Pére were friends. They knew each other since boyhood et they were business partners for over a decade."

It was instantaneous. One moment the name drew no familiarity to mind and the next Rogue recalled a fragmented memory. Her father had a visitor every so often. A man. He was never introduced to her or spoken of in front of her unless by accident. But she recalled the man because of the distinctive laugh that burst from his lips and entwined with her father's when they went walking about the gardens which from her recollect was the only time they were seen together. Suddenly the distinctive image- no, memory of a man to Remy's given description rose from the ashes. The man winked at her teasingly and called her by her old name but had offered no introduction of his own. She knew in spite of the haziness of that memory that he must be Jean-Luc LeBeau and that-

"They were…friends?"

Remy nodded.

"Dat they were. Mais chére…"

Again, he drew her gaze back to him with a jolt. She felt a stray lock fall into her eyes but he pushed it back before she could move. His gaze matched his serious tone as he spoke.

"I mus' ask b'fore I say anyt'ing else. Do y' know what y' Pére was?"

Her heart started to pick up the pace again as she nodded lightly.

"He was a sea Captain..."

"Did y' know what he did?"

Rogue turned her gaze back to her anchor; their hands entwined. She felt herself shake her head as if it were another's and not her own. Her words faltered as they slipped past her lips in barely a whisper.

"Ah didn't..."

She felt his stare as he tried to catch her gaze, he replied gently, "Y' sure?"

The numbness seemed to intensify then simmer down with her hesitance. Her father had been the hero of her childhood. Over the years her Grandfather and Aunt had made it their mission to denounce her father as a scoundrel and made no effort to conceal the idea they thought her to be no better. Spawn of the scoundrel that ruined their reputation for a time. Other than that it was as if he had never existed and she was forbidden to speak of him. Her memories of her father kept her guarded from their talk and slander. But even the best of her memories of him could not stand the power of time and its tendency to water down a child's memories. As much as she had tried to hold fast to them, her memories were now fragmented and grew dimmer with the shift of time. Of what memories she had left, she remembered his voice best. It's hearty, genuine bark of laughter still range true from memory. His smile and voice that had sung her to sleep at night and warmed her dreams with sunshine while she slept still haunted her thoughts from time to time. But above all things that were her father there was a fact about her father that she had never had any allusions to. A fact that until now she hadn't even spoken of to herself in years.

"He was a pirate...wasn't he? Ah was never told…not directly, but ah knew. Ah always knew…"

Young she had been, oblivious to her father's profession she was not. While it was never put to words, her father had been a pirate Captain. How many nights had he sat them both by the fire and told her stories of his escapades on the many tides of the open waters? She took a deep breath, the words still fresh on her lips as it registered within the confines of the room. Curiosity was quick to follow the small revelation. She forced the revelation down, swallowing it painfully as if it lodged in her very throat. She had to know how this panned out. Why it was part of the secrecy that Remy had maintained until now.

"Ah think ya better explain how this all ties together."

Remy nodded. His words came out as if well rehearsed as they took form.

"Partnerships in such a profession are exceedingly rare. Exceedingly harder t' uphold. Our fathers were one of the few Captains that managed such a partnership. Y' can imagine dat de worst of my kind are not…built for such associations." 

Rogue nodded. It was an understatement to be sure.

"I don't know all de details m'self, mais I know dat our families have been entwined some many decades chére. Mon Pére trusted y' Pére wit' his life et vice versa. Mais dere are risks t' dis trade dat make it necessary t' take precautions. Y' mus' understand better dan most dat when a ship leaves…dere is no certainty of it coming back."

Rogue felt a part of her she thought she had supressed long ago begin to ache. She nodded mutely. One of her strongest memories of her father was the day before he left for his final journey. Her mother, heavily pregnant and anxious had begged him to no avail to stay. She herself had been a troublesome child, willing the same as her mother to have her father stay but for all more selfish reasons. It was almost like prophecy that their pleading only resulted in their worst fears coming true…

She felt herself being pulled back into the room again when Remy squeezed her hands a little tighter between his as he spoke.

"Rogue, y' father entrusted mon Pére wit' y' should anyt'ing happen t' him or y' Mére."

She had felt it coming this, long overdue revelation and yet… it didn't stop it from becoming a new ache from old wounds. She knew her hands had begun to tremor slightly in his hold. She held his hands a little tighter in spite of the pain it invoked in her injured hand. The physical pain she could focus on, what she was being told she could barely come to comprehend just yet. She swallowed the feelings welling painfully in her chest and tried to take in steady breaths of air. Comprehension would only draw out feelings of rage at what might have been and the heartbreak of utter abandonment she had felt as a child. When she finally mustered the words, she was relieved to hear her voice was steadier than her hands.

"Then why was ah sent to England- to my Grandfather, if ah was entrusted to your father's care?"

She looked up from their hands as she said the words, only to regret the decision entirely. Remorse clouded those unusual eyes. His grip on her hands never faltered, the circles he drew into them practically tattooed into her skin.

"When y' Grandfather had y' brought t' England, mon Pere's hands were tied. He had no official rights t' claim y' chére. By law y' were t' go to your next of kin, y' grandfather had all de winning cards in his hands. Mon Pére tried t' keep y' from their sights mais y' Grandfather hired de right people t' track y' down et b'fore he knew it y' were whisked away."

Rogue lowered her gaze, fearing she'd drown in those compassionate eyes as some things began to click into place. She supposed that was the simple answer as to why she was abandoned to her relatives. But if they were Pirates- thieves on open waters, why should that have deterred them from retrieving her? Why wait ten years before retrieving her from a fate they had all but left her to? Rogue bit her lower lip in deep thought. She wanted to ask more but already she felt overwhelmed by all the information and the gaping holes between these new revelations. Knowing her family was so entwined with Remy's was a surprise she had not expected, let alone that had things been different…she could have grown up alone side Remy and his family. A frown marred her expression as another memory began to appear from the smoke of her once-buried memories.

"Ah remember after my mother died…ah was taken to another house in New Orleans. Your father hid meh for a time. Ah remember the night ah was taken away. They woke meh up and put meh in a carriage an' a few hours later ah was on a ship. Then Delmar Manor."

The memory was difficult to resurrect but she knew for a fact that she hadn't been taken by force. All she remembered was being passed from one person's care to the next in the black of night and without explanation except that she was to do as she was told…

"Y' are t' go wit' dese gentlemen ma petite belle. Y' be a good girl et do as y' told…"

The vague recollection of someone's voice came and went in an instant. Rogue felt a strange chill of awareness but pushed it aside as she spoke.

How did they find meh?"

Those eyes never ceased to show his sympathetic disposition towards her but his expression remained cool and collected.

"Désole ma chére. I wish I could tell y' mais I don't know de specific details. Y' will 'ave t' ask mon Pére when y' meet him."

Rogue nodded silently, pushing thoughts of the ordeal to the back of her mind. There was little use in trying to recall it when Remy could not fill in the gaps. Nonetheless, she felt an odd sense of trepidation hit her as the fragmented memories brought up equally distorted feelings, making her anxious. She forced herself to tuck the feelings away under a- hopefully, nonchalant façade.

"When will that be exactly?"

"In a few weeks with the wind on our side. But we have to stop in Jamaica t' retrieve mon ship. We will meet mon Pére at the Isle a day or two later."

Rogue raised a curious brow as she mimicked his words with new interest.

"The Isle-?"

Remy's eyes filled with warmth as he nodded. A wiry smirk played across his lips again.

"Oui. My home- our home is on an Isle close to Jamaica- mais not close enough dat de Jamaican authorities be breathing down our necks."

Rogue was momentarily struck with intrigue but knew that there was more she wished to know about this strange course of events. She was almost disappointed to see the warmth of pride leave his eyes when she spoke up again.

"So…how does this all lead to ya coming t' fahnd meh now after ten years?" 

Remy blew a heavy sigh between his lips, his shoulders shifting in the action. He focused on her hands again, his thumbs now lightly stroking her soft skin as he considered his explanation. A low chuckle escaped his lips, causing her to give him a questioning look. He had been itching to tell her everything for such a long time and now he had all the time in the world to tell her everything.

"What's so funny?"

Remy shook his head, still smirking.

"Not'ing really, just…I have been wanting to tell y' everyt'ing so long et now dat it comes to it…I find myself lost for words." 

Little surprise, he was finding this position they were quite comfortable and more enjoyable by the moment. Rogue, albeit a little rough-edged from her night in Paris, was safe and set aglow in the lingering sunlight. She wasn't glaring at him with distrusting emerald eyes or flinching at his touch. There was no tyrannical Grandfather and spinster of an Aunt to shield her from. Her hands were soft and warm, like silk that had been left in the morning sun and Remy admitted he could very well spend the rest of the evening with her hands enveloped between his as he drew circles into her skin.

But she deserved the truth and he had sworn to give it to her.

He leant forward a little more and adjusted their hands. He turned her injured hand so that it exposed her palm and began turning circles into her flesh again. She jumped a sparing moment later and tugged her hand away in the spur of a moment. He thought he may have hindered the wound but at his slightly startled look, she replied quickly.

"Sorry. Um…ticklish."

An amused smirk spread across his face. Ticklish huh? He caught the slight flush of red in her cheeks and silently vowed to keep that fact to memory for another time. He watched in amusement as she reached for that same stubborn lock of white hair and threaded it around her index finger before tucking it behind her ear. He found that particular show of anxiousness endearing, as was the flush of pink in her cheeks that had lingered in her embarrassment. The light glare that followed amused him even more so.

"Ya were saying?"

The grin on his lips diminished slightly as he forced himself to be serious again but not before reaching for her unoccupied hand again. When she pulled it free again and sent him a warning glare, he forced himself to behave as the gravity of what he had to tell her reared its head again. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Eighteen months ago, mon Pere told moi about y' et what happened wit' y' family. Up until den, I had known y' et y' family t' be dead. Dat y' et y' Mere were both lost t' a fever et y' Pere lost at sea. Before he told moi everyt'ing dat I am t' tell y', he made moi swear on mon life dat I would do whatever he asked of moi no matter what. I never saw mon Pere so serious ma chére, so I agreed."

Remy paused a moment to take in her expression. While her face remained calm and considering, her hands were tensely held together on her lap, marking her anticipation. He wanted to take her hands in his to comfort her again but supressed the urge as he forced himself to continue.

"He told me dat y' were alive et dat it was imperative dat I bring y' back. When we were sure dat we had found y', he let me in on de plan t' get y' back et I took over after- after he retired from de trade."

He shifted uncomfortably as if the words that had almost faltered from his lips held a burden he didn't feel comfortable to speak of. Rogue felt a twinge of regret, though she couldn't name its true source.

"John and I arrived in England a month later. We followed y' Grandfather, measured et weighed his proclivities at the tavern in de town he so frequented. I realised after a game of cards one night, dat y' Grandfather was more likely to let y' slip away wit' his blessing so to speak. Rather den spiriting y' away et rousing a search party across de country for Le Diable Blanc. So, I took de guise of Lord Damien Black et-"

His expression wavered between smugness and his attempt to remain sincere and cool on the topic. Rogue gave a cynical sniff of amusement.

"Ya offered him a deal he couldn't resist."

Remy nodded, smirking unabashedly.

"We played a few hands of cards. Lord Black expressed an interest in finding a wife as his father had instructed, et t'ought t' raise de stakes by making a wager. He offered his ship and et a thousand gold pieces should y' Grandfather win…"

Rogue tried not to look alarmed at the sum as she bit her lip closed and free of comment. Nevertheless, Remy was sure to catch wind of her alarm and his smirk broadened just a little more.

"Y' already know what was offered in payment when I beat him in all of de three games we agreed on."

Though Rogue felt a twinge of offence at being bartered for in a round of cards, she could not help but feel a hint of smug pride at her grandfather losing.

"Ah'd imagine he was pleased."

At this, Remy did smirk.

"He accused moi of robbing him blind et of leading him astray in a botched wager."

Rogue couldn't help but roll her eyes at the old menace's antics as she crossed her free arm and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"He cheats at cards."

The corner of his mouth twitched with amusement.

"Oui he does. Mais it is a good t'ing I am a master at cards et thievery, non?" 

Rogue rolled her eyes a second time though not without a hint of a smile on the verge of visibility.

"Your modesty is so humbling to behold. Ah'm assumin' this is the part where ya offered him something better than ridding himself of his nuisance of a granddaughter." 

Remy nodded, his hands continuing their gentle ministrations in a soothing manner as he replied.

"I gained y' Grandfather's interest by offering him double de amount of y' dowry t' ensure his cooperation. He took the offer et allowed moi t' come t' de Manor- t' get t' know y' beforehand."

Rogue nodded in unison with his explanation, the scattered pieces falling into place in her mind. However there were still blank spots in the pattern of his story. Many, she suspected, would not come to light until she met Jean-Luc LeBeau…her father-in-law. A few key questions came to the front of her bewildered thoughts.

"Why now though? If your father was so honour bound to keep meh safe…"

As the words slipped off her lips, the weight of them fell heavily as disheartenment took her again. Why had Jean-Luc LeBeau taken ten years to seek her out after her father had trusted him with her safety? The question gnawed at her more than she cared to admit. Nonetheless, the question was not lost on Remy. Compassion tainted his words.

"Chére I t'ink de person who needs t' answer dat is mon Pére. I can only assure, knowing him, he did it wit' good reason…"

He turned her injured hand over between his fingers, laying it gently out flat against his palm. Those endless pools of red-on-black fire seemed to burn with the intensity of his thoughts.

"He would have come sooner had he known what was happening t' y' all dese years Rogue. I know it. Mon Pére is a good man chére, better den y' probably t'ink him at dis moment. Hell, I should have got y' out o' dere sooner m'self…"

Rogue felt a twinge of guilt pull at her. He sounded so disheartened by the idea of her thinking that of his father, of him that it put her to her own shame. Gently, she laid her good hand over his, stilling his fingers as she caught his gaze.

"Ah'm glad ya got meh outta there nonetheless Remy. Circumstances aside and all…"

She was struck by the surprise that flittered across his expression before his hand grasped her uninjured hand and squeezed it gently in return. Rogue felt heat pool in her cheeks.

"Would have told y' about all dis a lot sooner if it was possible chére. Y' grandfather put dat snitch of a butler on m' trail et I could not risk tellin' y' even when we were alone. I deemed it best dat I keep y' in de dark until we were clear of y' Grandfather. I took up de guise of Lord Black t' at least gain y' Grandfather's interest. He knew of de family and its fortunes. Mais I promise, all de times it was just y' et moi-"

There was a sudden, urgent rap at the door before John burst into the room. Rogue felt herself withdraw instinctively, her hands in her lap. The idea of being caught in such an intimate moment still managed to arise anxiety in her. Anxiety that had plagued her life up until a few days ago… She mentally kicked herself for still feeling chastened by that fear. Her Grandfather was an ocean away and had no hold over her anymore. Wasn't that what she had promised herself?

Rogue was jolted out of her momentary lapse, as John began to explain the reason for his abrupt appearance.

"Captain- We may have some trouble ahead. It's another vessel, and it's approaching fast. Logan thinks it might be that blackheart Magnus- it's his colours but it's not the Silver Blade."

Rogue watched Remy's expression turn cool and calculating once more, the hint of a smirk not completely lost from his face. It was like watching a character appear in the guise of another. He was no longer Remy who made an effort to run soothing circles into her hands. He was Remy LeBeau, Captain and Pirate and he was almost completely foreign to her pre-dated assumptions of his character.

"What did Captain Darkholme advise?"

John didn't hesitate to grin as he answered.

"She advised a parlay between Captains before any…. aggressive negotiations take place."

Remy uttered a small chuckle as he stood and set his hand against the belt resting against his hip. The movement drew Rogue's attention to the crest engraved on the round face of his belt buckle. An elaborate 'L' entwined with what appeared to be a wreath of some kind of flower and a series of four small rubies set at each quarter of the circle. Rogue made a note to ask if his family did belong to some kind of secret lineage…

"Tell her I will be on deck to help with negotiations, presently."

In reply to the Captain's answer, John gave a two-fingered salute, grinned, and shut the door at his departure. When they were alone once again, Remy turned back to face her with a sombre look across his face. The playful light in his eyes was gone, the smirk on his face levelled to an even, solemn line. When he did speak, his voice was calm and reassuring but held a commanding undertone.

"Stay here and don't answer the door unless it's myself or Captain Darkholme. If anyone tries to get in otherwise…."

He slipped a hand behind his back and revealed a concealed pistol. Small but well crafted, he turned it skilfully between his fingers before holding it before her. She eyed it with interest as he began to explain the simple mechanics of operating it. Having never shot a pistol in her life, Rogue couldn't help but hope that she wouldn't have to put the weapon into a crash-course of practice. When Remy finished his short demonstration, he held it out to her with the barrel pointed away from her. She took it gingerly and forced her hand not to tremor at the action. Hand her a cutlass and she could cut an adversary to ribbons if she needed to. Hand her a pistol and game turned on her completely.

"I will teach y' how to use a pistol another time ma chére. Mais for now, I want y' to shoot first, ask questions later. D'accord?"

Rogue realised with a flush of embarrassment that her anxious thoughts must have shown clearly across her face. Nevertheless, she gave a definite nod of understanding. To her surprise, he took the moment to lean forward and raise a hand to cup her cheek in a gentle hold. Rogue felt her body warm and freeze all at once at the contact only to feel her heart throb in her ears as he leant closer and deposited a kiss on her forehead. When he drew back, his hand still cupped her cheek.

"Try and keep out of trouble dis time non?"

The first hint of a smile touched his lips before he quietly withdrew himself from both her and the cabin.

With her heart pounding against her chest, Rogue sank back into her seat and looked down at the pistol in her hands. Swallowing, she prepped the pistol as Remy had shown her and set her gaze on the locked door with a wary frown.

**Hope you enjoyed this update! More to be revealed as we go! Sorry for the delay in this update. It wasn't without good reason I promise! I hope this Lengthy update makes up for the wait in kind.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! **

**-Gams **


	28. Just Deserves

**Chapter Twenty-Seven – Just Deserves**

Lady Carrie Delmar could not help but ground her teeth as she attempted to sooth the headache radiating from her skull. She had never protested to be a faint-hearted woman but today she felt as if her bones would break should she move but an inch out of the comfort of her chair. From her toes to her fingers she felt as if her very bones were filled with lead and weighed heavily on her frame. It vexed her to no end to feel such discomfort and of course, she knew _exactly _who was to blame. The only problem was _she _was not even within the country to place the blame upon!

"If that devil child was not a thousand miles away with her _oddity _of a husband, I would have her whipped for putting me through such an ordeal…" 

After the wedding celebrations had come to an end, Lord Delmar had been most adamant that any trace of their former ward be swept away with it. And as the soul Lady of the manor, it had been left to her to orchestrate the refurbishing of Anna-Marie's rooms. She had scarcely been off her feet what with the architects and furniture makers to consult. Not to mention the small parade of _sympathetic _friends who had felt obliged to come to her aid in her time of need. Indeed! They had been quite the opposite! Lady Margery, a friend these past twenty years, had had the gall to insist that the seat cushions be covered in _salmon pink _and not _primrose pink_. The disagreement had ruined a perfectly sanctioned friendship that had worsened her headache ten-fold. 

The ordeal was not aided by the sudden departure of several servants. It seemed as if Anna-Marie's departure had begun a rebellion of desertion! First Roy had left them with merely a letter of resignation left in his stead. Then the maid, Sarah, and finally the Summers brothers as well! Their departures were most inconsiderate in Lady Carrie's opinion and she was certain it was all her niece's doing.

"Ungrateful brat probably hired them all for her new household without even the courtesy of asking…"

At that moment Lady Carrie's exasperated mutterings were interrupted by an unexpected sound. Frowning, she turned her gaze towards the parlour window only to gape with newfound puzzlement. A gilded coach followed the gravel path surrounded by a small company of the King's men on pristine white horses.

Lady Carrie nearly tripped over her skirts as she wrenched herself out of her parlour chair. Her past grievances forgotten, she all but ran to the front entrance hall with all haste. With Roy gone, there was but the head housemaid to answer the door. And if she was not mistaken, the gilded coach could only mean a visitor of high rank and importance. The idea of a Lord or a Count being greeted by a housemaid! The anticipated mortification set chills to her skin as she hurried down the stairs.

The housemaid had barely reached a hand to the doorknob when Lady Carrie's voice _boomed _from across the room, causing the maid to yelp and stop in her tracks. The matron of the house forced the maid aside with the vicious insistence of a grizzly bear. Once the maid had scuttled away in mild-shock, she took a moment to compose herself. When her cheeks were sufficiently pinched pink and her gauze gloves adjusted about her wrists, she opened the door with every ounce of decorum only to be left bewildered once again…

The face of an angel greeted her on the doorstep, causing Lady Delmar to catch her breath and flush uncontrollably like a debutant at her first introduction. It took but one artful look at the gilded crest on the carriage behind the angelic man before her to set the proper introductions in place. Lady Carrie had made a lifetime of recording family crests to memory and the Worthington family was practically second only to the Royal family itself.

"Lord Worthington. Why, what a delightful surprise. What brings you to our humble home?"

Lord Warren Worthington III gave a polite bow of his head and smiled, causing his flowing golden locks to sweep past his shoulder in a river of curls. One would have to be dead to not acknowledge the angelically crafted male specimen that was Warren Worthington III. Lady Carrie fought another blush as she allowed him to pass her but her flushed cheeks were quickly forgotten when from behind the Lord, the company of soldiers followed. Lady Carrie was swept back into the room as they came to a standstill line within the entrance hall. At her bewildered expression, Lord Worthington spoke and came quickly to the point.

"Forgive the intrusion Lady Delmar, but I am under urgent orders from the King. It is of the uttermost importance that I speak with Lord Delmar. So if you would kindly direct me to him, I would be most obliged."

Taken aback by his words, Lady Carrie began to scrutinize the young Lord with a wary eye. She made to keep her tongue calm and assertive but the words fell short before they could fall from her lips. From the corner of her eye, she watched as several of the King's men began to ascend the stairs without permission or enquiry. Her lower jaw bobbed with a forming stutter as she tried to catch her words.

"My Lord, why in heaven's name are your men bombarding up my stairwell- I do not-"

A sudden slam of a door came from her left, causing her to jump. Another pair of soldiers appeared to be checking every door from the entrance to the far reaches of the hall. Why they were practically searching the manor like-

"Lord Worthington. I must insist that you explain your men's actions! I find it most irregular to have my home invaded by the King's men! As if we were a house of criminals-"

As the men showed no sign of ceasing their intrusions into the manor, Lord Worthington turned to face the distressed spinster. Out of courtesy he removed his hat but the enchanting smile had diminished to a serious expression that set the Lady's heart a flutter with a strike of alarm.

"Lady Delmar, I am afraid that I must _insist_ on speaking to your father. Now I can order my men to search the rooms upstairs and turn over every piece of furniture in this house or you can oblige me by directing me to him."

Lady Carrie had only to ability to gape as indignation filled her to the rim. Only her stronghold on keeping appearances _civil _kept her from shrieking her outrage. However before she could make good of Lord Worthington's offer, a great cry of outrage burst from the top of the stairwell.

"What the devil is going on here?!" 

The man in question stood rooted on the spot a minimum of a two heartbeats before he began his stormy descent from the top of the stairs. His silver-tipped cane struck the marble stairs with each step as he continued to bark like an angry old dog. His narrowed gaze set upon the scattered soldiers as they milled their way about the main hall. One had the _audacity _to walk up the stairs and made to surpass him when Lord Delmar reached out and grabbed the young man by the scuffs of his coat and pushed him back towards the hall. He practically bellowed in the poor man's face.

"What the devil are you doing in my home? I'll have you all arrested for trespassing-"

"Lord John Delmar I presume?"

Lord Delmar glared back at the lofty young Lord as he turned to face him. He remained halfway down the stairs, towering over them like a dictator on a stage.

"I see not how my name is of consequence to you, sir. Whoever you are, I will have you leave this place immediately-"

"I am afraid that is not possible my Lord."

Lady Carrie held back a gasp, clutching a hand to her chest in shock. Lord Worthington on the other hand, remained cool and collected as Lord Delmar continued to turn a darker shade of red.

"Who the devil are you to talk to me thus?"

Lord Worthington gave a curt nod of a bow as he made his introductions.

"I am Lord Warren Worthington the Third. I am an Agent of the Crown and I am here under the King's orders to investigate you and yours at Delmar Manor."

The angry flush of red on Lord Delmar's cheeks flared but there was no mistaking the confusion in those cold eyes.

"_Investigation?_ What have you to investigate here-?"

Lord Worthington was pulling a wide, folded piece of parchment from his coat pocket before Lord Delmar even began his stammered retort. He held it out for his general inspection but did not relinquish it as he spoke. Lord Delmar strained to read it as he came to stand level with the young Lord.

"I have here a warrant to investigate by an means necessary the properties of Lord John Marcus Delmar. You will kindly allow my men to search the grounds or I shall have you restrained, my Lord."

The vein that bludged from Lord Delmar's temple throbbed with tension as he stood gaping at Lord Worthington and the document in his hand. When Lord Delmar finally regained his ability to speak, he began to protest ardently.

"Under what right do you have to invade my home with these- _investigations?_ I have done no wrong-"

Lord Delmar watched in growing contempt as a pair of soldiers began the task of opening a 100 year-old chest under a nearby window. They made no effort to preserve the craftsmanship as one man pulled used the hilt of his dagger to break the lock like a hammer on a nail. Lord Delmar was about to strangle the pair when Lord Worthington stepped ahead and cut him off. He stood a good two heads taller than Lord Delmar but the old dog still sought to keep his ground. Pride swelled in his breast as he stood at full height. If Lord Worthington was offended, he showed no sign.

"Lord Delmar, I shall speak plainly with you. Your cooperation is not _needed _but it is advised. We have incriminating evidence that links you to several crimes against the crown and one of his subjects. I would suggest you keep a level head about you as we do our duty and search the manor." 

Lord Delmar had never been a man of great emotion outside the limits of indignation and pride. Rarely did he feel as if the rug had been swept underneath him but at this moment he felt as if the very ground under his boots had disappeared, leaving him falling into the earth. When the rush of anger returned, he found his wits again and began to spit venom.

"How _dare _you make such accusations-?! You offend my honour sir! I have committed no crime and I forbid you-"

Lord Worthington could not withhold a gratified smirk as he inched a little closer so that he towered over the man. The lofty pleasant tone in his voice chilled to a warning tone.

"I think you shall find that _that _will be for me to decide, my Lord. Richards?"

He turned to address the man who had maimed the 100 year-old heirloom.

"Sir?"

"Have the men turn their attention to Lord Delmar's quarters- starting with his private study. Be sure to look for any hidden passages. We need to be _very_ thorough."

While Lady Carrie let out an indignant gasp and clasped a hand to her mouth in a very lady-like fashion, the soldier, Richards, gave an uncompromising nod and called for his comrades to follow. Meanwhile, Lord and Lady Delmar were _asked _to remain in the entrance hall while Lord Worthington made himself comfortable in a chair. Lord Delmar made no effort to heed warning as he continued to glare and mutter _loudly _at the injustice and absurdity of it all_._

Fifteen minutes later, Richards called his superior to the room, followed shortly by the Delmars.

Lord Delmar was the first to make remark upon the state of his office when they arrived. Every book was stripped from the shelves, every painting over-turned and his desk was ransacked to a mere corpse. Lord Delmar turned to the young Lord with outrage practically steaming from his ears.

"I'll see you reprimanded for this- this destruction of my property!"

Lord Worthington paid him almost no heed as he stepped past him to stand before one of the emptied bookshelves. There was but a single ornament on the shelf- a ceramic boy and his lamb. When Richards explained to the Lord that the ornament would not budge, Lord Worthington turned to face Lord Delmar with a self-satisfied glint in his sea-blue eyes before urging Richards to proceed.

Richards pushed the ornament back, causing an audible 'clicking' noise as it compacted into the shelf wall by an inch. At moment later, the opposite shelf creaked in protest as it opened to reveal a small room...occupied by several large wooden chests.

Lord Delmar felt the world tilt on its axis as Richards approached one of the chests with his infamous dagger in hand. He barely managed a single protest before the young soldier broke the lock and opened the nearest chest. The faint glow of gold reflected across his youthful face as he stepped aside to revealed the contents of the chest to his superior.

Lord Worthington clicked his tongue in a mockery of deep contemplation as he reached in to retrieve a single gold coin from the chest. He held the incriminating piece up for all to see as he spoke.

"Well, well gentlemen. I believe this is the proof we anticipated. _Arrest _Lord Delmar."

As Lady Delmar began to shriek her disbelief, Lord Delmar wrenched his hands from the pair of men who attempted to bring him about like a common criminal. They towered over him like giants and were vast to overpower his feral attempts to get free. However in spite of his lack of bodily strength, he continued to struggle like a madman as he bellowed.

"Get your hands off me! I demand that you release me! I am no criminal! Thatis _my _gold!"

"I do not doubt _that _my Lord Delmar. In fact, I'm _convinced _it is _your gold. _However I am also of the opinion that it is _stolen gold."_

Lord Delmar stilled his resistance as the shock washed over him. The lofty smirk across the handsome Lord's face had disappeared and morphed into a look of utter most seriousness. Lord Delmar recovered quickly, enraged by the audacity the young man had to call him a thief! His nostrils flared with indignation as the vein in his temple throbbed angrily.

"_Stolen?_ How dare you! This gold was _owed _to me by my grand-son-in-law! Lord Damien Black. He wed my granddaughter and gifted this wealth to me. Tis not stolen! You cannot arrest me for possessing gold that is mine by right-"

Lord Worthington maintained a sincere expression as he cut the old Lord's rant short.

"That is a _charming _story Lord Delmar. But I find it hard to believe when the man who reported the theft was none other than _Lord Damien Black _himself nearly a fortnight ago. The gold was stolen from his home in Paris and from our findings, it travelled by coach all the way here to England and finally to your _safe keeping_."

Lord Delmar's stilled. The angry shade of red that pigmented his face paled with the rush of disbelief.

"That- that's preposterous-! He was _here_. He was here nearly three months courting my granddaughter.

Lord Worthington uttered a disbelieving snort as he came to stand against the desk, facing the baffled Lord. He pretended interest in the heavy marble paperweight on the desk as he spoke.

"Forgive me my Lord, but I find that very difficult to believe. You see, I myself travelled from Paris to carry out the investigation with the insistence of my _friend _Lord Damien. I can account for his presence in Paris these past several months _and _for his engagement to a Lady Adelaide de Chalot, for I was a guest in his household for the engagement celebration. Which leaves me with the conclusion that you sir, are a liar _and _a thief. However I would like to assert one last thing before I have Johnston retrieve the irons-"

Lady Delmar uttered a mouse-like squeak of shock as she stumbled back. She caught the doorframe as she began to stammer in growing hysteria.

"Irons? You- you will take my father from this place in _iron shackles? _Oh good lord I shall never be able to set foot in good society again…my friends…my- my _reputation_?! It is all ruined!"

While Lord Delmar gave not a glance towards his daughter's hysterics, Lord Worthington gave the overwrought woman a sympathetic glance and urged one of his men to find her a seat and call for her maid. Once she was seated, he turned back to Lord Delmar. Again, he reached inside his coat pocket and from it withdrew a folded handkerchief and unwrapped it to reveal a playing card- _An Ace of Spades. _He held it out for Lord Delmar's inspection.

"This little _calling card _was left behind inside the family treasury. It is the calling card of the wanted pirate known as Captain Remy LeBeau- also known as _Le Diable Blanc. _He has an unusual… _partiality _for leaving a signature to _mark his work_. And I am willing to bet that I shall find one most similar within one of these chests- Richards? Did you find another?" 

Lord Delmar had not noticed the men opening the other chests. He felt numbness take him as the man retrieved another playing card from one of the chests. Lord Worthington held it up for his own inspection, revealing it to be _a King of Spades. _

"Along with this _most substantial _evidence against you, we now have multiple sources of proof that lead one to believe that you _hired Le Diable Blanc _and his men to carry out this scheme-"

"Now see here! I didn't hire any _Pirate blackheart _to-"

"-And to pose as Lord Black in an effort to make it seem you had _inherited _your new wealth from the marriage of your granddaughter to the _presumed _Lord Black. Thus covering your tracks."

For the first time in his life, Lord Delmar was nearly lost for words. However he was quick to put his remaining cards on the table. He had but one more card to play to save himself from the iron shackles.

"I was not part of any such schemes. I am innocent of these heinous accusations! I had no idea I was being tricked by some- some _Frenchman!"_

Lord Worthington arched a perfectly shaped brow.

"Truly Lord Delmar? I would not preach too much about innocence if I were you. For I am most certain you are as guilty as the evidence dictates."

With that said, Lord Worthington reached for a leather satchel that had been held by one of his men. From it he withdrew a worn looking scroll with a broken wax seal. He held it out for Lord Delmar to see before unrolling it.

"I believe this is your own _personal _seal Lord Delmar?"

Lord Delmar could only nod, his eyes set entirely on the scroll with growing dread…

Lord Worthington began to read it aloud.

_Le Diable Blanc, I received your shipment as per our agreed specifications. My granddaughter's wedding was a great success with your added contributions. As agreed, you will take your agreed share of the shipment upon the departure of my granddaughter. _

_My manservant, Roy, will see to it that you receive what is due._

_Sincerely,_

_Lord John William Delmar of Delmar Manor. _

When Lord Worthington finished, Lord Delmar was rendered utterly speechless for the good part of several moments…before anger burst from him.

""I _never _sent that letter! I never wrote it! Tell me who procured such lies and _forged _my seal and penmanship-?!"

As Lord Delmar continued to bellow, Lord Worthington gestured towards one of the soldiers at the door. A few moments later, a surprisingly familiar figure was dragged into the room. The man stumbled in like a newly born foal on untried legs until he came to stand in the centre of the room and looked up at his former employers.

Lady Delmar uttered a gasp.

"Mister Roy! What on earth are you doing here-?"

Lord Worthington stood from his seat by the desk and came to stand beside Roy as two men held the man to his feet. His wrists were shackled between eighteen rings of iron and he looked as if he had spent the good part of week in a jail cell. The stench of his unwashed body caused Lady Delmar to begin fanning herself.

"I'm afraid Mister Roy had the misfortune of being your accomplice."

Lord Delmar spat the word back in revulsion.

"_Accomplice? _Roy you lying little-_"_

Lord Worthington continued.

"We caught him on the French boarder with this letter in his satchel. You see, we received a valuable tip that you and the Captain were corresponding through a _reliable servant_ and have had our spies on the look out. When poor Mister Roy appeared, he insisted he was being transferred to a new household and was quite happy to procure his papers- unfortunately his last _act of service_ to you was tucked between his references and gave your scheme away completely."

Lord Delmar gave his former employee an enraged glare before he began a new bout of snarling.

"Why you ungrateful _fool! _How dare you speak words against me! After all these years-"

Roy seemed to find his voice again, raspy and shaken as it was.

"Forgive me my Lord! I- I was given words from that- that Captain- Lord Black! He- he threatened to have my tongue cut out if I did not give my notice and leave for France. I did not know he had planted the letter-"

Lord Delmar felt whatever strength in his legs that held him standing give out. Kneeling, it all seemed to crash upon him at once; the bet, the unusual Lord with the demonic eyes, the strange and all too good to be true bargain he struck… Then he began to question in his astonishment. What did a pirate and a thief gain from such a deal unless…

That was when it hit him like a strike of lightning. He felt his insides constrict with the pain of realisation as the anger arose from him like smoke from a flame.

"That French _blackheart! _He knows where his gold is! He knows where that rat of a pirate hid his treasure and he robbed me of it for his own gain! I should _never _have trusted him! That son of a whore tricked me!"

Lord Worthington finally gave hint to his mood as an exasperated sigh passed his lips. He turned towards Richards and motioned for him to proceed with the iron shackles in his hands. Purple with anger as he continued to bellow about the pirate he made the mistake of trusting, Lord Delmar was removed from the manor and loaded into the carriage. Lady Delmar followed swiftly at his heels, snivelling and shrieking louder with ever word that stammered from her lips.

Alone, Lord Worthington came to stand at the window of the study as he watched the Delmar family below. Finally, he heaved a sigh of relief as massaged the bridge of his nose. He watched, as Lord Delmar proved difficult to push into the confines of the carriage. It took two more men to _ease _him into the carriage with success. When all was done, he gave a low chuckle and smiled.

"My dear old friend… you truly have outdone yourself this time. I hope your new wife was worth the trouble and that she knows it."

He eyed the pair of cards he had set down on the desk. The Ace and King of Spades.

_**I don't think I've ever had such satisfaction in dishing out justice to a character who well deserves the punishment. Hope you enjoyed my little revenge against Lord Delmar! Please review! New chapter soon!**_

_**I hope you enjoyed Warren Worthington's little role. I have to say I was having a few hot flashes imagining his golden hair as it slipped past his shoulder as he bowed to Lady Delmar like a Lord of the 18**__**th**__** century. Sigh. And more twists! I hope you enjoyed them! More questions to answer next chapter! **_

_**-Gams **_


	29. Adversaries

_**A quick thanks to all the reviewers for the last few chapters! You've been wonderful and although I don't get to reply to all of you, I hope you know I appreciate the time you take to review. Makes my time writing worthwhile! **_

_**Also, questions will be answered in due time. I don't want to give too many spoilers. Person who asked about the initials on Remy's pocket watch, you'll find out soon!**_

**Chapter 28 – Adversaries **

Remy felt _breathless_.

His heart had not ceased its frantic thudding in his ears and it had nothing to do with the thrill of a fight or the rush of a successful plunder of a rich vessel. No, this heart aching breathlessness came from the mere touch of a woman who had in a single hour managed to make him feel everything from warm admiration to utter uselessness. Those endlessly green emerald eyes looked back at him with such a storm of emotions and secret thoughts he had no key to unlock and it both maddened and enthralled him. It had been difficult to tell her what little he had been able to reveal. He had been left stranded for a moment as to where to begin only to find her comforting _him, _urging him to begin at the beginning when it should've been his task to offer her comfort…

"_Dieu_, y' have t' get a hold of y'self _homme_."

Remy shook himself as he stepped away from the concealed cabin door. He could not be thinking upon such things when there was the possibility of a battle outside these walls. He needed to clear his mind of his green-eyed lady wife and armour himself for a meeting he could not be unprepared for.

He allowed himself one last look at the door before stepping outside.

By the time he reached the main deck, the unfamiliar ship had come about and sailed beside them at a steady pace. The air was tense between _the Mystique _and the considerably larger vessel. While the _Mystique _was considerably smaller, made for speed and the ability to make a quick escape, this new vessel drew water to its heavy hull. The twilight sky with its pinks and golden hues reflected against the great ship, casting its colours against the honey-gold timber. Remy could not help but admire the giant as it sailed; even though he was certain her vast belly made speed a hard-won feat.

Remy shifted his gaze from the ship and watched as Captain Darkholme's crew readied themselves discreetly with their cutlasses on hips and pistols within reach. None made too much of a fuss nor kept their gaze away from the nearing ship or its visible crew. Captain Darkholme kept her crew steady and silent with merely a pointed look as she came to stand at the forefront in all her fiery-haired glory. She stood as the very model of command and control, ready for a battle should the need arise. Remy pitied anyone who was held at the mercy of Raven Darkholme's blade. Her hand did not shake as she sent the blade through a man's heart.

Remy returned from his musing when John came to stand at his side, his blade hand resting keenly on his belt. Remy subconsciously felt for the blades held on his person. One on his hip, while two smaller blades crossed across his back under his short-coat. A smirk played across his lips, recalling who now wore his favourite coat however it was quickly forgotten when his eyes set on a familiar figure. The ship was close enough now that they could see its occupants clear as day. The sight of the man who stood at the uttermost height of the main deck caused Remy to grit his teeth behind his ever-present smirk.

Logan had been right in his suspicions as to who occupied this new vessel.

"Good evening Captain Darkholme! I did not know you took stray passengers but here and behold, you appear to have much worse. _You have a rat infestation."_

Captain Darkholme stood forward and rested one hand against the rail and the other on her hip. Her cutlass was strapped close to her side but she needed no blades to wound. Her amber-coloured eyes spoke volumes of secrets but her lips curled in an enticing smile; like a lioness smiled at unsuspecting prey.

"Why Captain Magnus, I do believe you are just as_ charming _as you were on our last encounter. But I know your elaborate act of attention seeking is not for my benefit. I trust you want a word with my resident _rat infestation?"_

Remy's lips twitched with amusement as they curled into a lop-side smirk. After a minute of being spoken of as if he were not present at all, Captain Joseph Magnus' eyes turned to meet his. A broad grin spread across the cur's face as he leant against the rail of his own ship.

__"Captain LeBeau- This _is_ an unexpected _reunion. _I thought in your absence these last three months that you had retired or better yet, _died_."

Remy willed his teeth to unclench as he came to stand at the edge of the deck. Captain Magnus stood at the railing with an unmistaken self-satisfied smirk spread wide across his face. Several of his crew chuckled in unison at their Captain's_ joke_. Remy absolved to return the witticism in _equal fashion _even as his stomach tightened with silent hatred.._._

"Remy is very sorry t' disappoint an'_ old_ _ami_. As y' can see Remy is neither retired nor speaking to y' from de grave._ Mais _he did hope in his absence y' might have met de same end.Though he will confess, de latter was de preference."

Remy had the satisfaction of watching the two crews began to whistle and chuckle at his response. Captain Magnus' grin tightened but those calculating, silver eyes betrayed the action. Even from this distance, Remy could see the anger that boiled beneath the surface of the façade. And it gave him such a thrill of smug satisfaction he could not fake a smile to that effect. He grinned with pure satisfaction as Captain Darkholme's crew muttered and chortled amongst themselves.

"Remy sees y' 'ave replaced the _Silver Blade, _Magnus. Did she grow blunt after a brush wit' de King's navy in dese past few months?"

Captain Magnus continued to glare with a façade smile across his lips. A small snort of distaste erupted from him as he spoke.

"I see you still speak in that archaic third person stance, LeBeau. I do wonder, is it because you feel the need to remind yourself of your name or that you like the sound of it so much that you must continue to do it?"

Remy grinned from ear to ear. Unbeknownst to Captain Magnus, he had grown out of speaking in third person some years ago but knowing the Captain's aversion for it, he made the effort to speak as such whenever they encountered each other. The smallest hindrance to Joseph Magnus' existence was worth the effort.

'Remy see's dat y' still favour de same hulk-like ships as de _Blade _was. Did y' wish t' compensate for somet'ing in…another area perhaps, _oui?"_

Remy had often been told as a boy that he knew exactly how to _press one's buttons _but had only mastered the art of knowing _when _and _how far _to press by the time he was a young man. He knew now that his control was slipping in the face of his old adversary but it was like he was making up for lost time. The angry reddening of Joseph Magnus' face was compensation enough in any case.

"I am quite pleased with the _Silver Fury._ She has twice the guns the _Blade_ had. Thrice the guns the _Devil's Revenge _has if I'm not mistaken_-_"

"Then she should sink _thrice _as fast, _non_?"

There was a general murmur of amusement amongst the two ships; causing Captain Magnus to step back from the rail and rest his hands on hip and blade. He had been confident before, smug with the newness of his sizable ship and _thrice the number of guns. _He had suffered for it with just a few cut words. Remy couldn't help himself. When Joseph Magnus was concerned, anything that wiped the satisfied smirk off his face was worth its weight in consequence. If it were his ship- or rather, if Captain Darkholme wasn't there to _supervise _their battle of words, he would be ordering John to have the crew ready to see whether the surplus of guns on the _Silver Fury_ could help sink her. He felt himself _itch _with the urge to take a blade to the cur before him. For it was long since his last fightand he had more than a few reasons to strike Magnus where he stood…but it was not to be this day.

"We shall attest that theory someday LeBeau only I assure you, it will be your vessel that sinks, not mine."

Remy made a point to chuckle heartily for his adversary to hear.

"Dat will be a cold day in hell, _mon ami. _A cold day indeed. What is it y' really wish t' speak of Magnus? Tis not my charming wit or Captain Darkholme's handsome vessel y' wish t' pay homage to."

Captain Magnus' demeanour shifted again, this time his arrogance was well placed.

"I heard you went to England to find yourself an _English Rose _for a bride, LeBeau. Is that true?"

Remy felt that breathlessness take him as all thoughts of outwitting the Captain diminished. Nevertheless he schooled emotions, forcing himself to not be affected by their influence as Rogue came to mind. Though he was certain he gave nothing away on the outside, his insides clenched with uneasiness at the knowledge that Magnus had heard about Rogue so soon. But _how much _he knew remained yet to be determined…

"So what if Remy did, Magnus? Y' wish t' profess y' congratulations? Very well den, Remy accepts dem on his et his _belle femme's_ behalf."

"I came to see if I might give the bride my condolences. For she is either a very _brave _or a very _desperate _woman to take on the likes of _Le Diable Blanc._"

Again the satisfaction rolled off Captain Magnus in waves and Remy couldn't lie to himself and say it didn't affect him a little. The gibing continued amongst a flurry of amusement from Captain Magnus' crew.

"Is it true she slipped from your grasp in Paris? Did she realise her mistake when you carted her off from her English shores? Or did she finally get a good look at those demon eyes of yours and made a run for it?"

Remy's jaw tightened with tension. He felt John shift uncomfortably beside him, hovering to hold him back should he need to. If a gap of water and air did not keep them separated, Remy was certain John would be holding him back already. The blood in his veins quickened with the anger that followed Magnus' words, only years of schooling his emotions kept him grounded as he retorted. A smirk still fixed upon his face in spite of the coldness that laced through his words.

"Y' little spies in Paris did not keep y' well informed Magnus. Remy's wife has not left his side since our departure. Remy t'inks y' need t' hire y'self more reliable spies, _non_?"

Captain Magnus gave a hearty chuckle as he came to lean against the rail.

"Perhaps but that does not change the fact your little _English Rose _is not at your side at this moment! Where is she LeBeau? I would like to give a full account to Belladonna when next I see her."

Remy steeled himself against the promise, for he had no doubt that if Joseph Magnus knew of Rogue's existence, it was not long before Belladonna did as well. And that was an encounter he prayed would not occur too soon...

"_Ma chérie_ has retired for de evening _mais _I will send your compliments on t' her. In de meantime, perhaps y' should go find Bella, _non_? Y' deux need t' catch up on your gossip, _non?_"

The mild retort managed to scratch the surface of Captain Magnus' smugness. He chuckled, shaking his head as pushed back from the rail to stand straight. He turned towards Captain Darkholme and gave a dramatic bow.

"Captain Darkholme, I wish you luck with ridding yourself of this _vermin_. I stand by my assurance that should you ask, I would be more than happy to help you with the _extermination."_

The word _extermination _drew his steely gaze towards Remy, as if to belittle him to the rank of vermin he believed him to be. In return, Remy merely smirked and returned his look with a dramatic, sweeping bow of his own. The _Silver Fury's _crew chortled and whistled with amusement before their Captain turned on them with presumably a most vindictive glare. Most of the crew stopped in their tracks before bowing their heads and moving along. The First Mate began to bark orders, ending their _negotiations _with the _Silver Fury._

Remy didn't realise it until John rest a hand on his shoulder that he was trembling with tension. When the _Silver Fury _began to haul itself away and it's Captain was out of sight, Remy turned his back to it and stepped towards Captain Darkholme with a determined stride.

There were only a few people who knew about Rogue's existence; he had ensured that with the uttermost of his abilities. Raven's crew would not breathe a word for fear of their Captain and _Le Diable Blanc_'s unspoken wrath…and yet a Pirate was a Pirate and there were some whose eyes and ears could be bought for the right price.

"How did he find out?"

The words were said with every ounce of cold calmness and yet he may as well have raised his blade to Captain Darkholme, for the affect was much the same. Captain Darkholme took a defensive stance with one hand rested against her sword hilt and set her fiery, amber gaze to match his own demonic glare.

"If you are inferring what I believe you are LeBeau, then I can assure you I need not call for Joseph Magnus to turn his overweight ship around to rid myself of your ungrateful hide."

The glare Wanda matched with her Captain's told Remy she would not be alone in her deed should it come to it either. Nevertheless, Remy did not flinch nor move for his place. After a few moments' hesitation, that sly smirk returned as he eased his accusations back. Raven's eyes softened- well, grew less _hardened _with anger as she eased her own stance.

"Magnus has his own set of eyes and ears strategically placed in Paris as you well-know. He took notice of your absence these past three months, LeBeau. The odds are that he has been following you long before Paris."

Remy sighed his aggravation; the only sign that the tension within him was deflating. He ran a hand through his hair as it blew about in the wind and into his eyes. He had known Magnus was likely to keep tabs on him but with the Delmar's own forces set against him these past several months, he admitted he had pushed the thought from his mind. Now he felt as if as if an invisible vice had been looped around his throat and now that he knew of it, it was as visible as it was close…too close. John's words broke his trail of troubled thoughts.

"Captain, he may not know as much as we suspect. He called her an _English Rose. _Our Rogue is more of a _Southern Spitfire_, aye?"

Remy gave a small chuckle of amusement at his friend's reassurance. He clapped his friend on the back with affection.

"Dat might work t' our advantage. _Mais_ he _knew _dat she took off dat night. We can assume all we want _mais _what matters is t' find out _exactly _what he knows et if we should be wary of his interests."

He would be wary of Joseph Magnus' interests in any case. His past with the silver-haired Captain was not one well reflected by their last _playful banter_. The man had once been a childhood rival, a boy he grew up with for a time under the tutelage of his father and family. But when Jean-Luc had favoured him to carry on his legacy and not Joseph who had been there first and older by a few years, Joseph had shown his true colours and spat in the faces of all who had cared for him. Nine years had passed since since Joseph Magnus had left the LeBeau clan in favour of a life carved out of his own self-inflicted punishment and Remy would carve his own heart rather than trust Joseph with any knowledge of Rogue's existence. Again, he would have to keep his wife close and his enemy within sight.

Remy gave John a pointed look as he spoke once they were clear of the main deck and obscured by the stairwell.

"Soon as we reach port, I want t' know _everyt'ing _dat _he _knows et every trace looked into. No loose ends John."

John gave a determined nod.

"I'll be on it soon as we land, Captain. But you might want to go check on her now. If I know your wife, she'll be keen to know what all the fuss was about an' won't take kindly t' your _dawdling_."

A mischievous grin spread across his freckled face.

"Plus I think Logan might be sick of _babysitting."_

Remy matched his friend's smirk but as John strode away, he hoped that whatever he unearthed in his findings in Jamaica, it wouldn't be anything he couldn't handle.

That odd breathlessness took him again as he set his gaze on the dwindling sunset on the horizon. He rested a hand against the rail and took in the sight as the sun dipped into the ocean. The idea of having a _treasure _that was worth everything to keep was a new concept to him but he had a feeling he would grow used to it in the weeks to come.

_**Thanks for reading! Review please! **_

_**-Gams**_


	30. Anxiety and Doubt

_**Chapter 29 – Anxiety and Doubt**_

Within ten minutes of Remy's hasty departure, Rogue had had enough of the four walls that had confined her for the main portion of the last several days. However when she had jiggled the handle in a peek of annoyance, she had not expected the door to open freely. She had been certain that when Remy left, the door had been locked but she made no further examinations. Instead, she tucked the pistol Remy had given her into her belt, slipped into the main Captain's Cabin and made a direct line towards to the door that faced the main deck. When _that _door didn't budge however, she gave an aggravated growl. It was _no wonder _the first door hadn't been locked.

There were no windows alongside the door but Rogue was determined to find a way to see what she was missing. Remy's words of warning to_ 'stay put' _that roamed about her thoughts were met with an impertinent snort. She wasn't going to be coddled like a baby.

"Dammit, there has to be a hole or _something_ to see through…"

As she felt around the walls for even the smallest of looking holes, muttering her irritation, she heard the crew outside jeer and chuckle as someone (her husband, no doubt) bantered away with someone else. She would be content with listening to it if she could actually make out what was being said.

Finally, her hand swept over an odd metal piece that appeared to be a part of the intricate carvings along the wall. However when she eased her nail into the edge, the cap slipped free, sliding to one side to reveal a small spyglass within the wall. A light chuckle of amusement escaped her as she levelled her eye with the spyglass.

The sight before her was enough to take the breath from her for a moment. Sailing along side the _Mystique _was a vessel of grandeur she had not seen in many years. It managed to keep speed with the sleek _Mystique _but even from her slightly obscured view, she could make out that the ship was pulling water slowly and drawing deep breaths to keep up. The sight of it made her smile as a memory tugged at her thoughts.

"_Papa, why is your ship so small? Mama took me to the harbour and we saw this Navy ship and it was as big as a- as a whale!"_

_She recalled the warmth her father's chuckle brought her as he held her close. She sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the railing while her father's large hands encompassed her waist to keep her from falling. She had never felt safer. His Southern drawl rolled off the tongue like honey._

"_Well darlin', the reason my ship is so small is that so when the great big 'Navy whale' ships starts t' chase, I can speed away quick as a flying fish. The big ships are heavier, so it takes more effort to make them move…With my small vessel, that isn't a problem…"_

Rogue smiled at the memory as her gaze swept over the crew of the Mystique- or what of the crew she _could _see, until her gaze landed on a familiar figure. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that it was Remy who stood at the railing, his stance strong and practically oozing with smug confidence. She was trying to make out who he was speaking to on the other ship when the rough clearing of a throat made her freeze in her place.

"Pretty sure you were told to stay put in that cabin, kid."

Rogue swallowed. From the sound of his voice, Logan had to be on the opposite side of the wall, mirroring her position. She could smell his cigar smoke if that was any indication.

"Are ya going to _tell on meh_ to your Captain, Mister Howlett?"

She heard him take another drag of his cigar and exhale deeply before he spoke.

"Get back in that cabin before the Cajun finds out."

This time, Rogue didn't need telling twice. She pulled away from the wall and slid the cap back into place. When she turned back towards her cabin however, she felt her anxiety diminish as a small smirk played across her lips. Perhaps there was a side to James Howlett that she had only glimpsed at through the spyglass…

An hour later, there came a knock at the door. Rogue had passed the time lying on her bed with her legs stretched up against the wall and her mother's letters set in a small pile beside her. She returned them to her trunk before answering the door. She hoped to meet a pair of demonic eyes but again was disappointed to find Raven Darkholme standing in her wake.

The Captain raised a knowing, angular brow as if she had read her mind before pushing the door all the way open.

"I thought you would appreciate being let out of your cabin now that the _Silver Fury _has made its way out of our sights. Are you hungry?"

She indicated to the small dining table in the room. Two silver bowls were set with steaming stew with a loaf of bread and two goblets of wine. The smell alone was enough to cause stomach pains of hunger but Rogue held herself back from lunging at it like a starved urchin. Captain Darkholme joined her silently but only drank from her goblet as she observed the young woman. When Rogue had had a third spoonful of her stew, Captain Darkholme gave a small chuckle.

Rogue looked up with surprise, the spoon mid-air between the bowl and her mouth.

"Is somethin'…amusing Captain?"

Raven Darkholme took a sip from her wine before replying.

"My dear, you eat with the delicacy of a _well bred lady_. Forgive me if I am unused to such manners. If you are hungry, by all means do not stand on ceremony on my account. You must be famished."

Rogue fought down a flush in her cheeks but nonetheless heeded the Captain's assurances and began to eat a comfortable pace…but the anxiety wasn't too far from her mind. To teach her _the delicacy of eating like a lady, _her knuckles had been rapped with the end of a horsewhip under her Aunt's instruction. It was hard not to break from those rules even with her Aunt so many leagues away…

'_She's not here. Stop thinking like they're still here…"_

Rogue bit her lower lip in frustration. Would she ever be free of their chains? As if determined to prove herself capable of breaking old ties, Rogue scooped the stew with a little more force only to slosh a piece of meat and sauce across the table. Her cheeks flushed red as she went about cleaning it with a napkin.

"Ah'm so sorry, ah- ah'll clean that up-"

Before she could finish, Raven had taken the napkin from her hands and urged her to sit back as she cleared the rest of the small mess. When she was finished, she set the dirtied napkin down and reached for the bottle of wine. She topped up Rogue's untouched drink before pouring another for herself. When Rogue didn't move, she leant over and pushed the goblet closer with a sly smile. When Rogue made no move toward it, Raven spoke.

"Rogue, _you spilt a spoonful of stew. _And not Cook's best stew I might add. I am not going to reprimand you for spilt stew. Understood? Now try the wine."

There was that knowing glint in the Captain's eyes again, causing Rogue to wonder if she really could read her mind. She ignored the redness in her cheeks and the embarrassment welled in her chest. Instead, she nodded and drank heavily from the goblet. The buzz of the wine hadn't quite fizzed out when Raven spoke again. Her voice took on a sympathetic undertone.

"I understand where you've come from Rogue."

Rogue swallowed another sip of wine, her gaze falling to meet the grooves of the tablet top. Her voice emerged low and unwilling as a bout of shame welled in with the embarrassment.

"He told ya about meh then…"

Raven shook her head.

"No my dear, he didn't. He told me your name and why it was so important that we bring you back. I did not _need_ to know what happened to you these past ten years. It's not my business and irrelevant to my part in our agreement…but I saw it in those frightened eyes of yours. That night in the inn…"

At their very mention, Rogue's eyes raised to meet Raven's amber. She offered a lopsided smile to ease Rogue's surprise.

"It takes one to know one, dear. I don't need someone to tell me that that recent scar above your brow is the handy work of a monster in man's form."

Subconsciously, Rogue reached for the newly scarring cut and traced her fingers over it in remembrance before taking another drink.

"The next few months will be an adjustment for you. You'll flinch at the touch of people who get too close. You'll question their motives, wonder why they would care for the likes of you when no one else has. But you _will _conquer that anxiety. It might not go away entirely but I have no doubt that you will soon master it and bend it to _your will_ instead of it bending you."

Rogue met Raven's eyes again, this time with…hope she almost dared not to show.

"And did _you_ master it?" 

Raven took another swig of her wine and set the empty goblet down on the table. She leant back against her chair with the confident movement of a woman who knew her own mind. Rogue could not help but admire her for her control.

"I would not be here if I had not."

Rogue finally freed herself from Raven's gaze and took to eying down the remained of her wine in deep thought. By that time, night had fallen and Raven set about lighting the room with more candles to see by. Having nothing better to do, Rogue busied herself with stacking the plates and sat down at the table once more. Beforehand she had wanted to ask where Remy was but it was hard to concentrate on him after such a conversation with the Captain. She wondered where this Captain Raven Darkholme had started and what monster had made her so fearful for a time…

She was surprised when a familiar object was set in front of her on the table.

"I would not make a habit of losing this."

Rogue looked up at the table to find the same dagger Raven had gifted her the other night. It was newly polished and caught the candle light in places. However when she looked up to face Raven again, she was surprised to find she had not been speaking of the dagger. Between her fingers, Raven held a golden ring…_her_ wedding ring. Rogue flushed pink as Raven deposited it on her hesitant open palm but did not put it back onto the appropriate finger. Raven chuckled softly at her young charge's hesitance.

"My dear, it will not bite your finger off."

Rogue still hesitated to slip the ring on. Her shoulders slumped as she replied mildly.

"But…this isn't a real marriage…is it? Ah mean…think about it. He married meh t' get meh out of England. Surely he didn't think…"

Memories of that night spent in the inn replayed inside her mind, causing an altogether different kind of flush to heat her skin and set her heart racing. There wasn't any mistaking his intentions then nor her own for that matter. But surely, with the truth coming to light, things had changed again? He was no longer _Lord Damien Black_-

"_But ya knew that already when you let him almost-"_

Raven's small chuff of amusement brought Rogue back from her thoughts. Raven had moved to one of the cabinets in the cabin and had just procured a full bottle of wine when she turned to face her.

"My dear, it is as real as the gold in your hand. The marriage, albeit unorthodox, is no sham."

Rogue eyed the gold band with a wary expression until a thought began to fester in the confusion.

"Wait…but he married meh under the name _Damien Black. _Doesn't that mean it's invalid?" 

Raven uttered an exclamation of approval as she espied a full bottle of wine. Content, she returned to the table and began to fill their goblets once more.

"It is quite amazing how you can bribe a priest to modify a few legal documents. Everyone, even a _priest _has a price they're willing to pay, dear. And your husband paid him well I'd imagine."

At Rogue's expression of stunned silence, Raven took the initiative to press the goblet a little closer to her young friend. When Rogue reached for it in a stunned sort of manner however, she made an effort to rest a reassuring hand on hers.

"It's not the end of the world, Rogue. I may not be an _advocate _for marriage but there are worse things than marriage to that husband of yours- though do not take it upon yourself to let him know I mentioned _any _such thing. He would take it too quickly to mind and we would both suffer for it."

Rogue felt a twinge of humour at the Captain's words. Indeed, it seemed Raven cared a great deal for Remy in spite of her protests of thinking him no better than an arrogant young man. Which he was of course but there was a definite spark of admiration and respect there that Rogue could not mistake.

"Well, I believe I have entertained you for an appropriate duration of time. I must bid you goodnight for I have the next watch. Do you require anything further?"

There was but one answer that immediately came to mind. Rogue mustered a hopeful smile.

"Is there any chance of having a bath drawn?" 

Raven merely smiled.

.

Remy took a deep drag of the thin cigar between his lips and let the smoke slip away in a deep breath. The smoke wafted away into nothingness as the ship continued it's steady stride amongst the waves. It was moments like this that he knew that _this_ was where he was meant to be_. _If Jean-Luc LeBeau hadn't taken him in as his son and raised him on the high seas, he was sure he would've felt incomplete somehow. The call of the sea might never have been realised and still he would have felt a piece missing from his soul.

The smell of sea salt in the air and the chilled wind blowing in tune with the tide was the freshest scent he had smelt in weeks and it was a small blessing to have returned to it after so many months. He had endured and hated the cold at Delmar Manor; the constant fall of snow being a nuisance to his hot Cajun blood. In the three months he had spent there he recalled his dislike of cold nights on the open sea with new fondness and longing. Now that he was back, he felt that longing was finally sated but there was another longing that plagued his every waking thought that even this simple joy could not distract him from.

"Aren't you supposed t' be with that wife of yours, Cajun?"

Remy didn't turn to face his First Mate but he acknowledge his presence by offering him a fresh cigar. Wordlessly, Logan took it and lit it up. A few minutes later, when Logan had taken a drag from his cigar, Remy replied.

"Captain Darkholme offered to bring her supper. I didn't want t' interrupt her."

Logan gave a low scoff of amused disbelief.

"That's a load of shit and _you _know it Cajun. Why you hidin' from her?"

Remy took another drag of his cigar but said nothing. Logan turned to rest his back against the railing as he continued to puff smoke like a chimney, his gaze hardened with determination.

"You can't hide from your wife, Cajun. She's curious as it is, you'll only make her seek ya out if you start hidin'."

"I'm not hiding from her, Logan."

Logan arched a dark brow at him. Remy didn't have to look to know he was doing it. Finally, he gave up on his cigar and threw it over the edge. His shoulders slumped as he rest his hands against the rail and sighed. When he said nothing else, Logan _urged him _to speak up.

"Out with it, boy. The _anticipation _will no doubt kill me_."_

At his First Mate's sarcastic retort, Remy finally spoke up.

"I t'ink I made a mistake marrying her."

Logan didn't so much as flinch with surprise. Never one to give into a variety of emotions, he took another drag and cut a to-the-point reply.

"Why's that?"

Remy ran a hand through his hair but kept his gaze to the horizon. The moon was out, setting its glow across the water's surface. He ground out his reply as if it were choking him.

"She didn't have a _choice,_ Logan. I know it was de only way t' get her safely out of England _mais _it should not have been like dat-"

"Cajun, the only other way she'd get out of that hell hole would've been in a casket and funeral march from what you told me. You did what you had to, to get her out safe. Stop beatin' yourself up about it like you ruined her life-"

"_Mais_ what if I have?"

The seeds of doubt had been there already, eating away at his soul as he played _Lord Damien Black _to perfection for Lord Delmar's satisfaction but the water from Joseph Magnus' words had made those seeds of doubt sprout into his thoughts. As much as he wanted to do right by Rogue now, he knew he had done wrong in tricking her into this marriage. Even with the best of intentions, there remained the fact that Rogue had not chosen to be his wife. She had resigned herself to it if anything else.

_Did she realise her mistake when you carted her off from her English shores? Or did she finally get a good look at those demon eyes of yours and make a run for it?"_

The words of his long-time adversary struck a cord in him, for in a way they had been true. Rogue had tried to run from him in Paris but for reasons he could only surmise. He couldn't help but dread that she would find another reason to run soon enough and he would not be able to stop himself from following her. When she had taken off in Paris he had never been so afraid of losing someone as he had her. Horrible possibilities had plagued his thoughts as he walked the streets in search of her. The state she was in when he had stepped into the cabin after she was returned had nearly sent him into a rage to find the men responsible-

"Don't think I've ever seen you so fixed on a woman like this before, Cajun."

Remy looked up with a start. When he caught the amused glint in Logan's eyes, he felt an actual flush find its way to his face. He glared at the older man.

"Y' can laugh all y' want Logan. It doesn't change anyt'ing."

Logan took a last drag of his near-finished cigar and threw it overboard.

"Yeah well, maybe you should take that as your advice. You're married now. Can't change that. Might as well get used to it and get your ass in there before she tries somethin' else."

Slowly but surely, the frown across Remy's brow eased to an amused smirk and his old, confident self.

"Y' know Logan, I t'ink dat is de closest t'ing t' a _romantic _y' have ever come t'."

Logan gave a low scoff and rolled his eyes as he stepped away from the rail and began to walk away.

"I'll leave the _romanticisin' _t' you, bub. Now go see your wife already."

Remy was left alone on deck as Logan retreated below deck. He stared back out to the horizon with a thoughtful frown across his face. Thoughtful, he reached into his pocket only to grasp the cloth of his empty pocket. He muttered a curse under his breath as he stepped away from the railing.

"De watch is in mon coat et the coat is on her." 

_**Review! **_


	31. Wanting

_**Chapter 30 – **_**Wanting **__

Rogue stared back at her reflection with mild irritation. Aside from her shortened hair, her face was a sight not fit even for sore eyes. The scrapes and cuts she had sustained in Paris still appeared visibly sore even if they were no longer tender. Her eyes were red-rimmed and exhausted in spite of the hours she had slumbered and the wearing out of the last few days had finally caught up with her. The urge to bath had never been so keenly felt- until of course, the door burst open and Wanda Maximoff came storming in.

Startled, Rogue turned away from the mirror and towards the unannounced visitor. A bucket in her arms and a fresh towel over one shoulder, Wanda stormed into the room like an angry hurricane followed by a pair of crewmen carrying what appeared to be a wide barrel cut in half at an odd angle. It was only after they put it in place in the middle of the cabin that Rogue realised it was her _bath_. However her elation at the idea was quickly dashed.

Wanda poured the bucket of steaming hot water into the tub with such force it was as if the water had offended her. As soon as it emptied, she pushed the bucket into one of the crewmen's arms. While the pair went about milling more water for the bath, Wanda turned on Rogue and threw the towel at her in much the same way as she had the water- with annoyance. Rogue caught the towel before it could slap her in the face but was thrown back again when Wanda began to speak. She stood with her hands on her hips and a scowl across her face.

"Look _M'Lady, _I know you're a _lady _and everything,but it's not the same here as it is in _merry old England _where you had half a dozen servants to chase you around_. _If you want a bath, you can carry the water yourself. Got it?" 

Rogue's brow furrowed with confusion as she stared back. When she shook off the surprise of Wanda's statement, she tried to school her emotions…but it was hard not to scowl in the face of such unprovoked anger. She mirrored the dark-haired woman's stance and set her hands on her hips; she stood her ground.

"Ah understand and ah'll make sure of that next tahme. But ah didn't ask ya t' do this for meh-"

Wanda uttered a disbelieving scoff. A cruel smile curled her painted lips as she replied.

"_You _asked for a bath. What do you _think _that entitles? Bloody fairies slipping into the room and drawing hot water from thin air?"

Rogue was at a loss as to what to say for a full moment before she was dishing out her own retort in kind. Schooling her emotions be damned.

"What the hell is your problem?"

"_My problem is _that unlike _you M'lady, _I don't have the time to fetch and carry for some little Miss who wants to play _Lady of the ship_."

Rogue felt whatever restraint she was harbouring _snap. _

"Look, ah told ya, ah didn't _ask ya _t' carry the water in here! Ah would've been _fine _carryin' it mahself if-"

A short rap at the door caused both women to stop and turn abruptly. Remy stood in the doorway, his gaze shifting between the pair with growing amusement in his eyes. He uttered a slight chuckle before clearing his throat to speak.

"I see y' deux are _getting along…_ _Mais _Wanda, would y' mind if I talked t' ma wife alone for _une moment_?"

Wanda needed no further encouragement to leave. She turned one last glare between the two before turning on her heel and storming back out of the room. Muttering irritably under her breath, she made a point of pushing a little more forcibly past Remy as she left. While he did stumble back, the action only provoked him to chuckle a little louder. With a jovial tone he knew would aggravate the woman only further, he called after his friend as she stormed down to the galley.

"Et _bonne nuit _to y' too Wanda!"

Wanda's crude albeit muffled response did not cease Remy's husky chortling as he closed the cabin door behind him.

When they were finally alone, Remy turned to face his wife only to find her glaring at the closed door. No doubt she was still reeling from Wanda's sudden show of temper. With her arms crossed, she stood with her weight shifted to one hip and a scowl spread across her flushed face. Her stance gave him more amusement than it should have but at least it put his previous insecurities out of mind for the moment.

"Do I dare ask what dat was about _chére?"_

Rogue managed an exasperated huff, causing a lock of her hair to blow away from her face. She flung the clean towel onto the high back of the tub as she turned away to face the windows.

"Apparently ah've made mahself a_ hindrance_ to her existence by asking for a bath!"

Remy made an effort not to chortle at his wife's exasperation but he could not help but grin with enjoyment at the sight. She was frightfully beautiful when she was angry. The time they had sparred was but one of many recollections that made him smile with great fondness even in spite of the circumstances. He came to stand behind her as she faced the windows and found he could not resist from resting his hands on her slender shoulders. Her warmth fought off the chill from his hands…

"Don't let Wanda's temper get t' y' _ma chére_. De femme is angry at everyone et everyt'ing some days. Et t'day she chose y' t' focus her anger. _Mais,_ don't judge her too harshly. She has her reasons."

Rogue uttered a disbelieving snort but said no more on the matter. As it was, she was quite distracted from her frustration with Captain Darkholme's First Mate what with her husband all too close proximity. His hands moved up and down her shoulders in a comforting sort of gesture and it made her both warm and cold with indecision as to whether to allow it or pull away. His touch both baffled and soothed her, causing such a tangle of her emotions she was unsure of what to think or do. When she found her voice, she forced herself to move away towards the bath again.

"Did ya need something?"

Remy opened his mouth, intent on bringing up the subject of his pocket watch, when his gaze set on the bathtub in the middle of the room. His eyes practically lit up with interest as he stepped towards it and peered inside.

Rogue practically read his mind before he even made it up. Her brow furrowed in a warning scowl.

"Don't _even think about it. _If anyone is havin' that bath, it's gonna meh."

Remy couldn't help the broadening of his grin as he put a hand into the water to test the temperature. It was hot and steam still brewed from the surface in swirls.

"Y' know, we could share-"

The warning glare across Rogue's face fell clean off as mortification set in. Her cheeks practically radiated with heat as she cried out.

"Absolutely _not! _Ya can bathe some other tahme- _on your own-"_

The wolfish look he gave her had her stumbling over her words until he stood at full height before her. He grasped her hands between his, stroking the palm of her uninjured hand as he bent his head to meet her gaze at her level. He spoke in a low, silky tone of voice.

"_Chére_, I meant we could take _turns_."

Rogue felt the colour in her cheeks drain completely only to burn s brighter shade of pink a second later. Smirking, Remy raised a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear and spoke with a teasing note in his voice.

"_Mais_ what did y' 'tink I meant, hmm?"

Rogue wished the floorboards under her feet would open and swallow her whole. However it was at that moment of pure embarrassment that a brilliant idea struck her. Ignoring her burning cheeks, Rogue stepped forward so that they were close enough to touch- almost chest to chest. She made a point of tilting her head to one side as she spoke, mimicking his manoeuvre of a sultry voice.

"Ah don't know… What did _ya_ think _ah_ meant?"

Rogue saw the surprise and interest that set his eyes aglow but he saw all too late that she was merely calling his bluff. Not a moment too soon, Rogue pushed him backwards until he lost his footing- only to fall into the bathtub with a great splash.

Dumbfounded, Remy sat there with half of his body submerged in water and his mouth hung open like a gaping fish. When he looked up, he was astonished all the more by the sight that met his eyes.

Rogue had not been able to contain her laughter from the moment he hit the water. A snort of amusement has escaped her, followed swiftly by the first peel of laughter that caused her ribs to ache and her face to redden from the strain. Covering her mouth with her hands was useless as tears began to brim in her eyes and blur her vision. She held her sides and let the laughter escape like a burst of fireworks in their many varieties of colour and sound.

Remy remained in the tub, the heavy weight of his soaked clothes forgotten as he watched his wife succumb to her fit of laughter. With silent astonishment, he began to realise why it had struck him so profoundly. He had never seen her laugh before. Not with such untainted honesty and genuine amusement in her eyes. It was no surprise he found himself instantly addicted to the sound…and disappointed when it ended. However as soon as her laughter had subsided, she was offering a hand to pull him out of the tub. He took it without hesitation as if in a daze and refused to relinquish it when he came to stand again. Dripping water onto the floorboards as he was, he was completely preoccupied with the rosy-cheeked angel before him.

That breathlessness he had been feeling of late returned with vengeance, setting his heart rate at a rampant pace.

Rogue was still chuckling between breaths when he reached out to tuck that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear again. It seemed as if the laughter had proven to be a better remedy than anything the ship's doctor had procured these last few days. She felt relaxed in his hold, her hands braced against his arms as if to steady herself rather than himself. It was a gratifying gesture, small and insignificant, as it seemed.

"Y' should laugh more often _chére._ Y' light up de room when y' do."

Rogue's smile diminished a little but her eyes betrayed her attempt to remain unaffected by his tender compliment. They shone brightly with the remnants of her amusement and let him know that he had struck a new cord with her. He took every ounce of pleasure out of the moment until the spell ended and Rogue made to pull away. Her voice was small but raspy from her dose of laughter as she spoke.

"Ya should get out of those wet clothes Remy, ya might catch cold."

Remy paid no mind to his soaked clothes. The flush in her cheeks and the sound of his name on her lips were his only interests and were second only to keeping her in his arms. Instinctively, his hand wrapped around her wrist as she made to move, keeping her in place as he spoke quietly.

"Y' not going t' have y' bath _chére?"_

Rogue shrugged; a gentle attempt at prying away from him.

"Ya can take it first, you're already soaked-"

Remy ignored her insistent suggestion. He urged her closer to the bath and wordlessly motioned her to stay put before walking into the secret cabin. When he returned to her a few moments later, he put a small glass bottle and a bar of scented soap into her hands. A look of pure delight passed across her face at the sight of the soap but her brow furrowed with uncertainty when she eyed the glass bottle. She held the glass bottle between them in silent question. He offered a small smirk as he answered.

"It's t' wash y' hair."

Curious, Rogue opened the bottle and brought it to her nose to smell. A whiff of lavender hit her senses, causing her lips to curl into a slight smile. She looked up again with every intention of thanking him only to realise he had already begun to walk away. His back was turned as he spoke in passing.

"Enjoy y' bath ma _chére."_

Remy had had every intention of leaving her there to do just that. Then a familiar, gentle hand wrap around his wrist and held him still. It was like a reversal mirror had been placed before them and she was the one urging him to stay and he had no heart to stop her. He turned to face her as she spoke. Her voice was gentle and sweetened by sympathy.

"Ya not goin' back out _there_ soaked through,"

Remy arched a brow at her, waiting for the final point. She tilted her head towards their cabin.

"There's a small hearth in the cabin. Surely ya can dry off in there until ah'm finished then take your turn to bathe?"

Remy swallowed, stifling a strangled groan as his heart and his head began to battle amongst each other. He should leave now before the temptation of candlelight, water and his wife became too much. His mind had already begun to imagine the temptations based on the night where they nearly... No, he had to go now while he could control himself. He would not give into that primal side of himself…But one look into those emerald eyes and he was lost.

Remy gave a silent nod of agreement and made his way towards the cabin door in a stunned, albeit determined, stupor. He shut the door behind him, found the small fireplace was lit in the corner of the room and began to slip out of his wet clothes.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Rogue let out the deep breath. She hadn't realised she had been holding her breath so deeply until he had left the room. She gripped the edge of the bathtub with her injured hand and held tight as she attempted to calm her breathing and heart rate all at once.

As much as she hated to admit it…her ability to think straight around Remy was beginning to fail her. Now, here she stood ready to take a bath while her infuriatingly charming husband stood in the next room…waiting for her to finish while his clothes dried.

Rogue closed her eyes and ran a hand over her face only to yelp when she used her injured hand. She cussed irritably at herself as she inspected the bandages.

"Damn, fool."

How was she going to get undressed with this damned thing?

"Everyt'ing alright out dere _chére_?"

Rogue bit back a second curse as she called back.

"Fine- Ah'm fine!"

She began to take off her coat- _his coat _when the cuff of the sleave brushed against her hand sending new pangs of pain through her skin. A muffled cry escaped her.

"Eugh! Dammit how am ah gonna-"

"Let _moi, chére_."

Rogue froze as a pair of familiar tanned hands came from behind her and solid chest came to rest against her back. Frozen, she could only watch as his nimble fingers began to free her injured hand from the captivity of the sleave. He had been so quiet up until the moment he spoke up, she was certain he would've done it before she even realised if he hadn't spoken. She then wondered if he had been taught to be so good at sneaking up on people when she realised suddenly that that was part of his profession. A small snort of amusement escaped her but Remy must have mistaken it for another pained sound for he stopped his ministrations. His voice was gentle and warm as he spoke up.

"_Desole. _Did I hurt y'?"

Rogue shook her head wordlessly, fighting another chortle. She soon calmed her amusement when he reached for the collar of the coat and began to slip it off her shoulders. When the coat hung by her elbows, he told her to keep her arms in place. She did as she was told as he manoeuvred the sleeve until finally her arm and hand were free. Rogue couldn't help but gape a little. She would've caused her still-healing hand to bleed again if she had continued the way she had been going. Yet he managed to get it off her without even brushing the fabric against her fingers.

"How did ya _do_ that?"

Rogue became all too aware of his proximity again when his breath tickled her ear. His reply came out in a husky tone, sending shivers from her ear to her toes.

"I've had twenty years of t'ieving experience _chére_. First lesson of t'ieving was t' remove a coin purse from a coat wit'out alarming any o' de bells tied t' it."

Rogue felt her heart begin a frantic pace; a warning. Gently, she slipped her other arm out of the coat and turned to face him- only to freeze again when she realised that he was completely naked from the waist up. Rogue couldn't stop her eyes from roaming across his perfectly sculpted muscles even if the sight caused her to blush profusely. She was neither dead nor blind. However her scrutinizing was quick to come to a halt when she noticed the wound that was still scarring on his left shoulder.

Without hesitation she reached for the wound. He flinched slightly under her fingers but she ignored the reaction as she spoke.

"How did this _really _happen?"

Remy felt whatever breath he had been holding deep within him disappear on the impact of her question. Like a dog that reared its head, the situation that lead to his injury came to mind. He caught her probing gaze as he spoke.

"I was _procuring _a few _trinkets _in Paris for a buyer. Someone tipped off the authorities and I was shot during de getaway."

Rogue eyed the healing wound again. Her brow relaxed from a curious frown to an uneasy expression that left Remy speechless. Her words slipped out in barely a whisper but they were more to herself than to him.

"So it _was_ a bullet wound…"

Remy raised a hand and rest it atop her own over the wound. He spoke softly and offered an encouraging smile.

"It's healing well now. Y' _Maman _taught y' how t' stitch a wound well, _non?"_

Rogue managed to lift a corner of her mouth in a meek return smile but it quickly fell when she realised the map of scars that marred his perfect body. He had seen more than his fair share of wounds and it instantly made her heart tighten. Her hand fell away from under his to trail to a particularly gruesome looking scar near his rib cage. Whoever had tended to it had cauterized the area, leaving an angry scar in its wake. Without thinking, her fingers outlined the scar.

"How did this one happen?"

Her eyes shifted to meet his as she spoke only to freeze under those glowing red-on-black orbs as they caught her and held her in place. Before she could speak or move, Remy leant closer as if to kiss her only to stop mid-motion. A deep sigh escaped him as his gaze fell between them…landing on her hand as it remained against his rib cage. Finally, he lifted his gaze but refused to meet her eyes. Remy stepped out of her hold and took the coat out of her arms as he spoke.

"De water will go cold _chére_. I'll leave y' to it now."

He offered a lopsided smirk before disappearing behind the cabin door again.

Rogue stood exactly as he had left her for several moments. Finally, when he made no noise within the room, confusion and disappointment found their way into her heart as she slowly began to move about in preparation for her bath. The sleaves of her chemise were lightweight and the cuff size were adjustable, making it easy for he to manoeuvre her injured hand as she undressed. When she slipped into the tub, she found the water was indeed beginning to lose its warmth but it was of little consequence to her now.

Rogue heaved a frustrated sigh as she dunked herself below the surface of the water. She wasn't even certain of which frustrated her more. The fact he nearly kissed her again or the fact he stopped before she could make up her mind as to whether she wanted him to or not.

Meanwhile, Remy lay on Rogue's bed with an arm draped over his face as he tried to calm down. A groan escaped him as he forced himself to sit with his legs over the edge and ran his hands through his hair. He blew a frustration sigh through his lips as once again, Joseph's words spread their poison through his thoughts. He had over a hundred scars from a variety of battles, fights and dark places he had landed in over the years. Most stories that came with his scars he didn't even wish to remember himself and he'd be damned before he shared them with his own wife. Before, he had been full of doubts because he feared Rogue would grow to hate him for marrying her without her true consent. Now he began to fear that perhaps she would grow to hate him because of what he was…_Pirate. Thief… Murderer._

"She deserves better den y' LeBeau. She doesn't deserve de likes of y'…"

And yet he couldn't stop himself from wanting her. _Needing _her. Another sigh escaped him as he scrunched his eyes closed and tried not to imagine the disappointment and confusion that had clouded her expression. He took to rubbing the bridge of his nose as he stood from the bed and moved towards his discarded coat. He pulled the gold pocket watch from one of the many pockets and opened it gingerly. The initials engraved into the inside of the lid caught the light of the flames in the fireplace and in that moment gave him some clarity he hadn't had in hours if not days. He rubbed the pad of his finger over the initials as a sarcastic chuckle escaped him.

"_Pere_ always did say dat patience is de key t' a good t'ief."

So he would be a good thief and wait for Rogue to make the next move. If and when, he would know whether he had made the right decision and perhaps he wouldn't feel like such a fiend for wanting his own wife...or wanting her to want him back.

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	32. The Witch, the Giant and the Wolverine

_**Okay I've uploaded this chapter twice now and it hasn't come up as an alert email in my inbox so I can only assume it hasn't in any followers' inboxes. No idea why, hoping this will sort itself out! Otherwise, if anyone else has had similar issues with update alerts, please share your solutions! Thanks!  
**_

_**Chapter 31 – The Witch, the Giant and the Wolverine **_

Rogue woke to the sound of creaking floorboards and the whistling wind finding its way through the crooks and crannies of the small cabin. When her eyes finally fluttered open, the sun was already streaming into the room and warmed the blanket that had become twisted around her legs. Yawning, she rose to an upright position and began to wipe the sleep from her eyes. When her eyes finally adjusted to the morning light, they swept about the room until they landed on a surprising sight.

Across the small space of the room, Remy slept in a hanging makeshift hammock.

Rogue felt an odd sensation of guilt pull her at the very sight of him. After their heated encounter, Rogue had spent her time scrubbing herself down in tepid water until her skin was pink and raw. When she dried off and dressed in a nightgown and a velvet blue dressing gown, Remy had emerged from the smaller cabin in fresh clothes. He had told her simply not to wait up and that he would be back in the morning before exiting the cabin. At the time, his words had led her to believe that he had decided to sleep elsewhere. She had anticipated he would occupy another cabin on the ship. Never did it strike her that he would sleep in an uncomfortable hammock not two feet away from her small bed.

Rogue bit down on her lower lip as she eyed him sympathetically. He breathed deeply in his sleep but didn't snore. The unmoving smirk he practically invented was gone from his lips, giving an almost innocent air about him while he slept. Except the hammock was clearly not the right size for his broad shoulders and his legs practically dangled over the edge. He may have been sleeping peacefully now, but she could imagine the tossing and turning to find any semblance of comfort had taken most of the night. It was this thought that made her feel somewhat ashamed of taking up the one and only small cot in the room.

It was then Rogue noticed something crumpled on the floor below him. The blanket that he had draped over himself had fallen in the night and lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Like a mother would for her child, Rogue was careful not to stir him as she stood, picked up the blanket and gently draped the blanket over him. She tucked in the blanket corners to ensure it didn't fall out if he moved again but even so, his feet poked out from the angle the hammock set him. The sight caused a small smile to light her face before she began to realise what kind of man she had married.

Any other man- pirate or otherwise, wouldn't insist on taking a hammock over taking the same bed as his lawfully wedded wife. No matter the circumstances. In spite of all that had happened between them (and what _almost _happened on several occasions) he was really turning out to be more of a gentleman than even the _real _Damien Black probably was. It was strange to think of him as a Pirate Captain, a Thief and a gentleman all wrapped up in one person. And yet he was. Small things he did and said made him more than he had professed to be. Pirate and a Thief he was, he wasn't like the ones she had heard tell about. And in spite of all the lies and the scheming, this part of Remy was growing on her more than she liked to admit. The realisation that she might have married a kind-hearted Pirate would take some getting used to in the days, if not years, to come.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a little guilty for being the reason he slept in a hammock and not in a bed they could very well share…

Rogue pushed back the guilt as she went about dressing for the day. She donned a pair of her own breeches – a maroon colour she had never allowed the Delmars to see on her person, and a white long-sleave chemise Sarah had fashioned with a feminine touch to the wrists and neckline. A birthday gift, Sarah had hand-stitched a pattern of ivy vines and leaves that gathered around the wrists and neckline, trailed to the loose cuffs and shaped the rims. Rogue couldn't help a sad smile as she adjusted the cuffs to hide the ugly bandages around her hand. She had no idea what had become of her friends. Whether they had found a new home for themselves or even if they had left England like she herself had.

"_They could be dead and ah wouldn't know it…"_

Rogue pushed the troublesome thoughts aside as she finished dressing. Instead of donning Remy's coat again, she dressed in one of her own that she had had made before her departure. It was sturdy brown leather, with two slits at the back that allowed her legs more freedom to move about whether she be walking or riding. The sleaves were tight at the arms until the wrists where the fabric folded in generous cuffs and ended just past her knuckles. A small smile spread across her lips as she buttoned the front, remembering how much her aunt had _voiced _her dislike of this particular coat. The thick collar curved with her chest, creating a scooping neckline that ended just below her bust; a far too _risqué _feature for Lady Delmar's tastes. But Jean, her angel of mercy, had been there at the time of its reveal and had praised it as the next trend of the county. Lady Delmar, not one to go against the next trend for fear of being considered _out-dated_ herself_, _had been forced to concede her approval through gritted teeth.

Rogue pushed back another saddened feeling at the thought of Jean. Her angel of mercy who had not shown up at her own wedding…

Rogue shook herself as she began to pull on her boots. There was no point in worrying over her friends when she was in no position to seek them out.

Finally dressed, Rogue stole one last look at her slumbering husband. He had not managed to kick off the blanket again but he had shifted at some point so that his hand now rested against his rib cage. It was then that Rogue noticed a familiar object. Grasped lightly between his fingers on a chain was that gold pocket watch she had found in his coat that night. It was clasped shut now but even so, she recalled the initials engraved into the lid.

_**J.N.L.**_

_**R.E.L.**_

There was no mistaking the second set of initials. _Remy E. LeBeau. _Rogue mentally noted to ask him what the 'E' stood for, however the initials J.N.L. now began to piece together in her mind.

_"Do y' have any recollection of a man named Jean-Luc LeBeau, chére?"_

There was no doubt in her mind now that they had to be the initials of _Jean-Luc LeBeau, _and that the pocket watch itself was in fact a family heirloom passed from father to son…

Rogue turned away from him, suddenly hyperaware of the confusion she was still trying to find her way through. The pocket watch was like a seed in soil, sprouting shoots of questions yet to bear the fruit of answers. There was still so much that she had to know about her past- _their past. _Jean-Luc LeBeau was the one man who could tell her why it was so important she spent the last 10 years in her English prison at Delmar Manor. He could patch together the few memories she had of the days leading up to her departure from her family home…why her mother died so suddenly after her father…

A frown began to knit her brow as she quietly exited the small cabin. To be sure, she was anxious to speak with her new father-in-law and yet… there had been a certain simplicity in not knowing everything that had happened when she was eight years old. To her knowledge, her father had been lost at sea, presumed dead after his ship was found in pieces floating on the ocean surface. A few short months later, her mother had died due to complications of an early childbirth and fever, taking her life and that of Rogue's baby brother. Not long after the loss of her mother and brother, Rogue had been taken to New Orleans by whomever Jean-Luc had entrusted to care for her. Then her Grandfather had sought her out and she was handed over to him and sent packing to England… to endure 10 years of their hatred and abuse, her Grandfather's vehement need to stamp out whatever resemblances she had inherited from her parents…

The pang of pain in her hand made Rogue realise she had been clenching her fists. She tried to relax, easing the tension in her hands as she made her way across the empty Captain's cabin. Yes, she was very anxious to speak with Jean-Luc LeBeau but there was a part of her that feared that what he had to say would make her regret she asked at all. There was a lot her parents hadn't had the chance to tell her. She had no doubt her parents had tried to keep her unawares of her father's true profession, if not because of tender age then to keep her out of harm's way. But _harm _had come her way and she was beginning to believe that it had much to do with her father and his _business partner's _dealings. For what else could it be?

With an aggravated sigh, Rogue forced herself to not think about her questions for a while as it was proving only to give her a growing headache. She pushed the cabin door open and stepped out into the sunny deck. She had to shade her eyes it was so bright at first, but when her eyes began to adjust, she found the crew of the _Mystique _were plentifully placed amongst the ship as they carried out their duties.

A cool morning sea breezes had come with the dawn of the new day, blowing life into the white sails of the shipas it sailed swiftly through the waves like a dark water serpent. White clouds stretched across the blue sky, proving some shade against the still-rising sun. As Rogue made her way down the small stairwell to the main deck, she noticed that there seemed to be an air of excitement and merriment amongst the crew. The crew were boisterous and jovial in their duties, so much so that they barely took notice of Rogue's presence as she made her way down the deck in search of the galley. She had no doubt the good weather and fair winds were the source of the crew's good cheer. However the crew's good spirits did not seem to carry to all members the crew.

Rogue watched as Wanda Maximoff made her way across the deck with the subtly of a thundering storm. Many took the initiative to stand back or bow their heads in work so as to not provoke her anger as she passed. Rogue had no doubt that when the First Mate of the _Mystique _was in a foul mood, any good humour amongst the crew was sure to be stamped out by her wrath. And it appeared that way when Wanda stopped to give one of the cabin boys an earful. Rogue winced in sympathy for the boy as he was pinned by the ear by the merciless female First Mate. However in her observations from afar, she failed to notice the pair of crewmen, carrying a great load of thickly woven rope between them, making their way towards her at a stampeding pace. They brushed past her without much care except to tell her to watch her step. Rogue barely heard them as the force of their impatient movement caused her to lose her balance and fall backwards. However before she could hit the deck, a pair of large, gentle hands caught her by the elbows and her back made contact with a solid wall of muscle. Rogue, stunned, looked up at her towering saviour only meet a familiar kind face.

"Are you alright _Malyshka?"_

Rogue flushed pink with embarrassment as she nodded at the kindly giant. When he steadied her on her feet, she turned around to face him…only to have to look up to fully meet his gaze. She offered a grateful smile as she spoke.

"Thank ya- ah'm sorry, ah don't believe ah got your name-?"

It was odd to see such a giant of man flush. Rogue was certain that if provoked, this gentle giant could be a force to be reckoned with. His gentle manner in contrast to his giant stature proved that old saying of appearances being a deceptive notion. A rueful smile spread across his broad jaw, setting his dark eyes alight. He rubbed the back of his head as if to draw away the sudden strike of bashfulness.

"Piotr. Piotr Rasputin. I am pleased to meet you Mrs LeBeau."

Rogue felt the odd urge to giggle nervously at the oddity of the situation. She had spent their first encounter kicking and screaming abuses at the gentle giant as he had carried her back to the _Mystique_ and now here they stood, trying to make polite introductions. A small chuckle escaped from Rogue's lips as she held out a hand in offering.

"Ah'm pleased to meet ya too Mister Rasputin. And ah'd lahke to apologise for…mah _behaviour _back in Paris. Ah know ya were only tryin' to do your job an' t' keep meh safe. So…thank ya. _Again_."

The flush in Piotr Rasputin's cheeks intensified at the admission but he conceded to take her hand in a gentle hold of truce. When he released her hand, they began to walk along side each other at a gentle pace.

"Are you looking for Captain LeBeau, _Malyshka_?"

Rogue shook her head.

"No, he's still sleepin'. Ah _was _hopin' t' fahnd the galley and get somethin' t' eat if ah could."

Piotr nodded in understanding before offering a simple response.

"I will show you."

With a wordless smile of gratitude, Rogue followed him down the deck. The crewmen who passed them appeared dwarfed in his presence and parted like the red sea as he made his way down the deck at a controlled stride. Rogue followed behind by a mere step, feeling as if she had found her very own shield to path her way to the galley without being pushed about by the busy crew. As they made their way down the length of the ship, Rogue tried to strike up the conversation with the quiet giant.

"So, are ya one of Remy's men or Captain Darkholme's?"

The giant glanced down on her over his shoulder as he replied. His Russian accent grew thicker as he strung more words together.

"Captain LeBeau hired me as a carpenter on board his ship two years ago. But I took commission Captain Darkholme- I designed this ship."

Rogue's eyes brightened with interest.

"The carvings on the walls in the Captain's cabin- ya did those?"

A small flush coloured his cheeks as he nodded and smiled in obvious pride over the revelation.

"Yes. I am also an artist."

Rogue found it difficult to picture Piotr painting a canvas with his large hands and towering frame but then, she hadn't expected him to be such a gentle giant either.

"Maybe someday I could paint you? I like to paint portraits."

His handsome face was red like a tomato but those kind eyes spoke his sincerity. Rogue felt her own cheeks turn pink as she stammered over the idea.

"Ah- ah don't know… Ah've never had anyone paint mah portrait before."

The hint of disappointment on his face was clear but he offered a small smile of understanding all the same and didn't push the idea further. Rogue felt her heart constrict with a pang of guilt but before she could change her answer, they were at the entrance to the galley. Piotr stepped back and allowed her to go in first. Rogue tried not to smile as he ducked his head to get through the door.

The sight of a hanging pot over a large hearth was the first thing Rogue noticed. The smell of whatever was cooking within was tantalising, causing her stomach to rumble in hungry protest. Even if it was leftover stew from the night before, she had no qualms for she was hungry enough to eat an entire pot-full. However before she could go about getting her fill of breakfast, Piotr rest a hand on her shoulder and pointed away from the hearth.

"I will bring the food, _Malyshka._ You sit with Logan. He will keep you company."

Rogue tried not to grimace but did as he bid, making her way towards the grouchy man sitting on the end of one of the long tables in the galley. He appeared just as rough and ornery as the day before only he was nursing a goblet of what smelled like-

"Is that _coffee?"_

Logan peered up at her with his amber gaze but did not move. Rogue sat herself down across from him, practically sighing at the heavenly smell of freshly brewed coffee. He barely afforded her enthusiasm a response as he raised the mug to his lips to drink. Only after he had swallowed did he reply. Gratification rumbled from his rough voice.

"Sure is."

Rogue could barely contain the urge to rip the cup from his hands as he took another sip. She missed coffee like a drowning man missed the gift of breathing air. Finally, Logan afforded her a wry glance. Their gaze held for a few elongated seconds in which Rogue's hopes rose with the prospect of getting a mere taste only to crumble when Logan stood up from the table and moved away- coffee in hand. Rogue felt her shoulders slump with disappointment- until a cup of steaming black coffee was set in front of her. By the time Rogue finished her first sip, Logan had already returned to his seat. When their eyes met again, Rogue offered a small smirk.

"Thanks."

He took another sip of his own cup as if he hadn't moved at all.

"Don't mention it, kid."

Rogue grinned a little wider only for Logan to give her a meaningful look.

"I mean it, isn't distributed t' this crew. An' I don't want no one tryin' t' sneak off with my stash._"_

Rogue's smile fell a little even as she took another gratifying sip.

"Ah feel sorry for them already. Months at sea… no coffee…"

Rogue noted the slight smirk that nestled in the corner of his mouth but didn't point it out for fear of scaring it away again. A few minutes later, Piotr joined them with two bowls full of steaming hot stew- the same stew as yesterday in fact. Rogue thanked him and began to tuck into her food in moderate silence. The three sat in a comfortable silence until a familiar voice shattered it like a brick through glass.

"_Howlett! _What did I tell you about brewing that stuff on this ship?"

Rogue and Piotr both flinched and turned to face the livened First Mate. Before either could move (or duck for cover) Wanda was heading towards them- or more specifically towards Logan who didn't so much as glance her way as she approached. An uneasy silence passed about the galley. The few stragglers who had been eating at the other two tables in the galley took the opportunity to wolf down the last of their meals and leave. Even the Cook, who had been serving a few late risers, had disappeared into the storeroom, leaving the remaining three to weather the storm that was Wanda Maximoff. She stood with her hands on her hips, waiting impatiently for an answer until Logan finally raised his gaze to meet hers. His response was dry and laced with sarcasm.

"See you're ya usual _pleasant_ self this mornin' Maximoff."

Wanda narrowed her icy blue gaze.

"Coffee isn't stocked for _this_ crew, Howlett._ You know that. _And if you cause any unrest on this ship, _I'll _have your guts for garters before you can take another damn sip."

Logan acknowledged her words by the mere raise of his brow as he took another infuriating sip.

"You can quit burnin' holes in my head, Wanda. As ya can see there ain't no one around t' start any _unrest_ an' even if they did, you sure as hell won't let it last with that hot temper of yours."

Wanda would've been steaming from her ears if it was humanly possible but she said nothing more on the matter. Instead, her gaze slipped back to the silent Mrs LeBeau sitting at the table. Wanda raised a scornful brow.

"Where's that husband of yours?"

Rogue took another sip of her coffee as she spoke in a dry tone much like Logan's.

"Asleep."

Wanda scoffed as a sardonic smirk curled her lips.

"_Wear_ himself out did he?"

Rogue flushed but it was anger that fuelled the flame rather than embarrassment.

"Ah don't lahke what you're implyin'."

"Funny, I don't like carting hot water around for _Madam's bath _at her beck an' call-"

"Leave 'er be Wanda. She's not the one you're mad at an' we all know it."

Both women turned in surprise at Logan's cold dish of reason but Wanda was quick to close her mouth and turn her glare to full force against him. When he didn't buckle or burst into flames at her look, she growled and turned on her heel. When her cutting words to the crew could be heard from outside, Rogue turned to Logan with a bemused look.

"Do ya mean…all of_ that _was because of John?"

Logan made no effort to hide the small smirk of amusement that tugged at his lips.

"That crazy Aussie is in for a whole world of hurt, kid. You can take my word for it."

Rogue returned to sipping her coffee, silently pitying her jovial natured friend. However her sympathetic thoughts were interrupted when a bell began to chime and a voice boomed from the main deck.

"_Land ho!"_

_**Review! Next stop, Jamaica and another encounter with a certain Silver haired Captain Magnus and perhaps a first look at Belladonna Boudreaux…  
**_

_**Russian Translation:  
**_

_**Malyshka – Little One**_


	33. Port Royal

_**Chapter 32 – Port Royal **_

Rogue was practically buzzing with anticipation- a feeling she thought she had long forgotten how to feel. As the infamous _Port Royal _came closer into view, she felt as if her body were experiencing a temporary bout of cabin fever. She had heard her father speak of the place on occasion as a child- though of course, his account had been much more _child-friendly, _playing upon her wistful sighs and naïve enthusiasm for adventures beyond Mississippi and her family's estate walls. Rogue couldn't help the small smile that spread across her lips at the memories of her father's tall-tailed stories of the open seas. Her mother had strictly forbidden her from sailing with her father- at least until she was of _'proper age'_, so of course any tales of high seas adventures her father had were met with enrapture and insistence for more. Second to her father, her father's stories were the one thing Rogue adored above all else. The only child with an entire _household_ to chase after her every whim, and she spent most of her time begging for another story about Captain Blackbeard or Captain Morgan. And when she wasn't asking for another story- she was begging for an adventure of her own. She had begged her father; possibly from the moment she learned to form sentences, to bring her on one of his _adventures. _But her mother held firm against the idea and her father was never one to deny his wife. The single rule had been the only case of resentment Rogue remembered holding against her mother and the rule held strong until it was too late. The notion of being able to experience the infamous place in person left her invigorated with curiosity and caused a flurry of excitement to kindle in her stomach. _Adventure beckoned_. 

The _Mystique _was at least an hour away from settling into a vacancy in the harbour when Rogue felt a familiar presence settle beside her at her place on the main deck. The smell of Cajun spices and mint mixed with a familiar scent that reminded her of warm chocolate. The combination of scents teased her nose as a pair of gentle fingers tucked something small and velvet-like behind her right ear, followed by a husky voice.

"_Bon matin ma belle fleur." (Good morning my beautiful flower)_

Rogue brushed her index fingertip against the edge of one of the _Belle flower's _petals as she turned to face her husband. The _nickname's _significance was not lost on her as Remy rewarded her glance with a favourable smile. He turned to face the water, his hands panned against the railing as he stood beside her. He eyed the nearing harbour.

"Y' ever been t' Port Royal ma _chére?"_

Rogue held the flower in place as she shook her head. The wind threatened to blow it away, so she tucked it in a little firmer into the tangle of loose curls her hair was becoming. She mirrored his stance and looked out to the island that became closer with each passing wave.

"Mah father told meh about it when ah was little."

A small chuckle escaped him as he turned to meet her gaze with an amused glint in his eyes. Rogue felt his unusual red orbs draw her in as he spoke.

"He _told y' _about de infamous pirate haven den, eh?"

Rogue felt her lip curl with a half-smile.

"He made it out t' be somethin' less _illicit _and more… _adventurous _than any of the official accounts._ A Pirate's playground _ah believe he called it." 

Remy chuckled and shifted closer, resting a hand over hers in the process. When she didn't pull away, he replied.

"Dat_ is_ a _light_ way of putting it. It is a place t' behold wit' an open mind,_ ma chére_. I t'ink y' may find dat de _real _Port Royal will strike quite a different tone t' de tales y' father told y'."

Rogue felt a cold chill tingle her fingers as he shifted his hand away to rest beside hers again. To mask the slight tremor in her hands, she adjusted the flower in her short hair. Once certain it would hold in place, she stared out to Port Royal with a wistful heart. She squinted, hoping to see some of the ships in the harbour but they were too far away to distinguish.

"What does the _Devil's Revenge_ look like?"

Pride filled the smile that set across his face like no other as he replied.

"Y' best wait until y' see her y'self, _belle_. I t'ink any impression I give y', will not do her justice."

Rogue raised an inquisitive brow but conceded to his words. She turned her gaze back towards the harbour when Remy continued to speak.

"Y' won't see her there. She's anchored off shore, out of sight of de harbour. We'll get dere by boat. _Mais,_ we will stay in Port Royal for a few days before we head t' de Isle. I have some business wit' some of de merchants here et we need supplies."

At her quiet nod of understanding, he added.

"I could give y' de _grand tour _if y' like. I t'ink y' well overdue a change of scenery, _oui?_"

Rogue smiled in agreement. She couldn't help the thrill of excitement that coursed through her skin. The thought of being able to go exploring in Port Royal was more than she had anticipated. And if she was honest with herself, being somewhere other than the boundaries of the Delmar estate was more than she could have hoped for. It was odd to think that she had been freezing to death in Delmar manor not even a fortnight ago…

She shook her head as if to shake off the chill that arose with the memory of that cold, lifeless place- only to gasp when the flower in her hair came loose and took off on a brisk breeze- only for Remy to snatch it from the wind with quickness of a cat chasing a bird. With a smile, he held it out for her to take back. Flushed, Rogue took it. Their fingers brushed against each other, causing delightful tingles to spread through their skin-

"I _wondered _why my _Portlandia grandiflora _tree has been looking so barren as of late. LeBeau, I should be charging you by the_ bouquet_."

Rogue turned suddenly to find Captain Darkholme standing but a few feet away with her arms crossed. The hint of amusement curled in the corner of her lips. With the sun behind her, her billowing red hair turned as red as blood; an effect that made Rogue realise just how intimidating this woman was without the effort. She approached them at a poised stride, almost cat-like in her movements, and came to stand before them. The small glint of amusement caught her eyes as they darted between the pair and their still-interlaced hands. At her blatant scrutiny, Rogue slipped her hand out of Remy's, avoiding his penetrating stare, and set the flower back into place behind her ear. The amusement didn't quite leave the Captain's eyes as she silently followed the exchange, but her voice instilled nothing but her usual steel and commanding demeanour.

"We will be making port within the hour. My vessel shall depart with the morning tide. I trust, LeBeau, that I shall be hearing from you at the end of month?"

Rogue watched the exchange, feeling as if she were an observer from miles away. Curiosity clouded her gaze as the easy, almost carefree demeanour Remy had maintained with her transformed into the façade of coolness and charm. Every word that escaped his lips appeared effortlessly measured and weighed.

"I have not forgotten our agreement Captain Darkholme. Y' have held your end of de bargain, I will uphold mine. Our agreement goes unchanged."

Captain Darkholme gave a curt nod and stepped away. However before departing, she turned her attentions to Rogue. Those penetrating eyes held her in place as she spoke evenly.

"Should you ever need my assistance, I offer it unreservedly. My signet is well know,"

She revealed the hilt of her cutlass- the raven signet engraved in the hilt was similar to that on the dagger the Captain had given Rogue.

"And you need only reveal it to any man or woman carrying the same signet and they will aid you. However…"

She gave Remy a pointed look before turning her attention to Rogue.

"I am certain, if _he _is the cause of your troubles. You are more than capable of dealing out your own _retaliations_."

Remy's jaw tightened visibly in spite of the wiry smile that spread across his lips.

"Captain, I t'ink one could accuse y' of instilling vengeful thoughts into ma wife's head, _non_? And here I t'ought we were friends?"

Raven arched a perfectly shaped brow at the grinning Cajun. He reply was dry and cold as ice.

"_Friends _would imply amicable appreciation for each other, Captain LeBeau. I'm afraid that would be taking our _business_ _association _a little too far_." _

Remy chuckled, humoured by the Captain's _mild_ correction. Rogue wondered vaguely how her husband had survived the journey thus far without Captain Darkholme gutting him for insubordination. However her wonderings were interrupted by the Captain's final address.

"We shall meet again, Rogue. I am _certain _you can _handle _Captain LeBeau until our next meeting."

Rogue nodded and shook the Captain's out-stretched hand. When their exchange was finished, Captain Darkholme gave Remy one last nod and left them. Once gone, Remy approached her with a husky chuckle and a wide grin.

"_Chére,_ I do believe de Captain has taken a liking t' y'."

Rogue's brow arched with bemusement.

"Why does that surprise ya?"

Remy's smirk diminished with a sudden streak of seriousness.

"Captain Darkholme isn't one t' offer her assistance without demanding somet'ing in return _chére._ Y' are one of de privileged few who have entered her protection without having t' give somet'ing in return."

.

As soon as Rogue stepped onto the docks of Port Royal, Rogue felt as if her eight year-old self had re-materialised and watched through her eyes as the reality of her father's old tales began to mesh with the _real_ Port Royal. Remy had been right to warn her it wasn't all that her father had described to her eight year-old self. Though it appeared to be the thriving haven for many a sailor, merchant and pirate that she had heard and read about, Port Royal was something to behold when seen by one's own eyes. The unique variety of smells of the harbour infused with the saltwater breeze, concocted a unique fusion as they made their way out of the harbour and into the town surrounded by the vast wilderness and greenery of the natural island. Merchant shops, town houses and market stalls with every kind of peoples that catered every kind of trade or trinket hedged them into crowded stream of people.

Rogue found it difficult not to wander off like a besotted child amongst new surroundings. As if on cue, Rogue felt Remy take hold of her elbow as he steered them through the crowd. Logan and Piotr lead the group, while John fell in behind them at a surprisingly _quiet _pace. While Logan blew smoke from a fresh cigar and parted the on-coming stream of people with his ornery disposition, Piotr towered over the crowd and turned several heads with his giant-like stature. The fact that Rogue's trunk was balanced over his shoulder like it weighed no more than a sack of flour did nothing to deter people from staring. Rogue felt a pang of sympathy for the gentle giant when a pair of young wenches passes him by, giggling and whispering in his wake. His ears turned pink with embarrassment.

"Try t' stay close _chére. _No wandering off dis time, d'accord?"

Rogue hadn't noticed that she was wandering from the trail again until Remy lightly tugged on her arm. The teasing glint in his eyes caused her to roll her eyes and chuff a breath in annoyance. She made no effort to curb her tongue as she replied dryly.

"_Right_, because that worked _so well _last time."

The way the corner of his lips curled into an amused smirk vexed her to no end but the fact that he knew it was worse. However it was momentarily forgotten when Remy suddenly pulled her close- and out of the way of a passing fish monger and his heavily packed fish cart. The man barked some indistinguishable French profanities as he passed, causing Rogue's eyes to widen with shock and Remy to chuckle with amusement at his wife's reaction.

"Like I said,_ oui? _Keep close et try not t' stir up more trouble, _d'accord?"_

Rogue rolled her eyes whilst removing herself from his grasp. When that insufferable smirk did not even diminish at her actions, she turned on her heel and continued in the direction they were heading beforehand. Logan, who had continued on few paces ahead, barely turned a glance in her direction as she came to step in time with him. Piotr, who had watched the encounter with flushed cheeks and a gentle smile, followed close behind.

Remy uttered a sigh and shook his head, grinning all the same. If life with Rogue were to be like this for the remainder of their time on this Earth, it would never fall under the category of a _dull life. _Out of habit, he rested a hand on the hilt of his blade and slipped a hand to the back of his belt to check the pistol and purse were still in place. Satisfied, he followed a few paces behind- only to stop suddenly when he realised there was one missing from his company.

Turning, he found John a few paces behind him, practically dragging his feet as he burrowed his hands in his coat pockets and hung his head with his gaze set to the muddy ground.

It was quick to dawn upon the Captain how uncommonly quiet his friend had become and, of course, _why _he was so out of character. He came to step in time with him.

"_Mon ami, _y' will 'ave all de opportunities t' grovel at Wanda's feet in de weeks t' come. I would try not be so disheartened in de meantime, _oui?_"

John's shoulders seemed to slump even further as he replied glumly.

"Mate, she was ready t' tear me a new one after leaving for _three months. _I think I'll be worse off in the time it takes before I _do _see her again."

"_Ah mon ami,_ I'm sure it isn't all dat bad-" 

John gave his Captain a disbelieving look.

"Captain, do you have _any _idea how long it took to get her to admit she wanted me?"

Remy shook his head.

"Two years, eight months, three cursed days, and four hours stuck in cellar, mate. You _really think _she's going to go easy on forgiving me?"

After a very _long _moment of silence, Remy sighed and gently clapped his disheartened friend on the shoulder.

"Y' have mon sympathies, John._ Mais, _I never knew y' t' be anyt'ing other dan optimistic,_ non?"_

A glimmer of John's old self appeared as his lips broadened to a grin.

"Always optimistic, mate. But I won't lie when I say I was hopin' I'd get a better homecoming from the missus than the one I got."

Remy shared his friend's grin of amusement. John and Wanda had barely been together a few short weeks when he set off to get Rogue out of England. After two years of John's pestering and Wanda's returned hostilities, eight months of crossing paths, three cursed days on Port Royal during a trade off, and four hours stuck in _locked_ cellar together, Wanda finally managed to admit that she loved the crazy Australian. However with Wanda's track record for bad show of temper, it didn't surprise Remy in the least that she was mad like a hellcat about the choice of farewell John had taken.

"Wait a minute- Captain what did y' mean _in the weeks t' come? _Thought we weren't meant to meet Captain Darkholme until the end of the month?"

The amused smile slipped off his lips as Remy's gaze shifted back to others ahead of them. His expression became solemn as his gaze singled out Rogue amongst the crowd. He replied quietly, for John's ears alone.

"_Mon Pere_ has called a meeting of de Brotherhood in a fortnight's time."

John took notice of the way his Captain's gaze centred on his wife. A long sigh escaped him as he replied with a tender note.

"Have ya told her everything yet?"

Remy shook his head.

"_Non. Mon Pere_ insisted he be de one t' tell her de truth. I will not deny him dat."

John turned his gaze towards Rogue again. An overzealous fabric merchant had stopped her in her tracks, and was trying his best to force his merchandise on her. No doubt for a price not worth an inch of thread. Stroking the fabric like an animal pelt, he urged Rogue to try the emerald green dyed muslin in his outstretched hands. Rogue tried to refuse the merchant's advances but a moment later, Logan, who appeared to have had it with the merchant's prattling, _returned _the yard of green muslin to the merchant by way of wrapping it around the poor man's head like a turban. The merchant was quick to take his leave, to say the least. Rogue on the other hand, turned on Logan with a heated glare and her hands set on her hips in defiance. No doubt, Remy thought, she was about to berate the ornery man for meddling. Remy couldn't help a small smile of amusement at the sight. But it was a short-lived amusement. John suddenly gave a disheartened sigh.

"Poor Sheila… though ya have to admit, Captain. Our Rogue's proven herself stronger than we've given her credit for in the past. She may surprise you with how she _reacts _to the truth…"

John watched the amusement on his Captain's face diminish, becoming solemn and troubled. Never, not until they had arrived at Delmar Manor, had John seen his oldest friend and Captain grow so _visibly _uneasy. His voice barely rose above the noise of the crowd as he spoke evenly.

"How do y' live ten years, t'inking y' parents died tragic deaths et dat no one _wanted _y'… only t' find out dat the truth is much worse dan y' thought?"

John couldn't say anything to answer that question and Remy did not blame him for his silence. As much as he wanted to believe she would handle the truth well, he knew that Rogue would overlook the fact that what was done was done to keep her safe. She would see it all as another betrayal; another let down by someone whom she had thought to trust. And she would not thank them for it. It would take time and effort to come to grips with what his father had done…

Remy gritted his teeth. She would retreat into herself again and the bouts of easiness between them would become fewer in the truth's wake. He genuinely feared she would not allow him as close as he had come to her in these short few days. That she would try to put as much space between them as possible. The idea she would think herself alone and unwanted again, left Remy feeling tense with nerves and a need to hold her closer still. The tenderness she exhibited towards him in small bouts would be sorely missed when her distrust returned in full swing. He was surprised and all together terrified by how keenly he felt it even now with her just a few paces away, unbeknownst of the fact…

"_Who will console her when her mind grows dark with her old demons?"_

Scott's words from the night before the wedding filtered his thoughts, tainting them with painful questioning he so wanted to prove wrong. He watched as Rogue attempted to talk with Logan, who was not one for great or lengthy conversations. Her face was aglow with amusement and curiosity; carefree and unhindered by the demons that had poisoned the last ten years of her life.

Remy stopped clenching his fists when he felt his own nails begin to pinch into the flesh of his palms. What he wouldn't give to ensure those demons left her alone...

"Captain- _Remy_… Much as it's gonna hurt her, I think knowin' you'll be there to help her understand the truth will ease the blow."

Remy felt the gravity of the wisdom in his friend's words weigh on his chest, making him hopeful. He managed a measured nod of agreement. He would be there when his father revealed the awful truths. No matter how she reacted, he _would be there._

.

Rogue shifted a glance back at the pair behind her. Frowning, she turned only to catch Logan's following gaze for a moment. She nodded back towards her husband and his co-conspirator.

"Wonder what they're scheming about this time…"

Logan didn't so much as turn his head to look as he replied with a grunt of what was assumed was light amusement.

"Thick as thieves those two. One schemes, the other follows."

Rogue couldn't help the small smile that spread across her lips. It was more or less an apt description of the pair. But now that their masks had fallen to the side, Rogue was amazed she had ever believed John to be a _manservant_ to Remy's _Lord Black._ They continued up the road, systematically dodging disgruntled tradesmen and eager merchants as they passed. Finally, despite Logan's ornery attempts at keeping an abundance of silence between them, Rogue acted on her curiosity of her new companions and spoke up.

"Remy mentioned ya've been his First Mate for nearly ten years."

Logan stole a lingering glance of her, his brow anchored high. The flat tone in his voiced matched the vague answer he gave in reply.

"That's right."

Rogue rolled her eyes but continued all the same.

"So, ya know him well then?"

"Well enough."

Rogue blew an exasperated sigh, blowing the stubborn lock of hair out of her face. Getting nowhere on her attempt to pry information about Remy out of his second in command, she moved on to finding out what she could of _his_ story instead.

"So what were ya before ya took _him _on?"

Logan gave her a look that would make anyone else look away with his or her mouth clamped shut. Luckily, Rogue wasn't anyone else.

"What do ya want t' know, kid?"

The words _'get to the point' _were hinted in his tone of voice. So Rogue did so.

"Ya don't strike meh as the _followin' _type,"

When that look didn't disappear, she added.

"Ya look lahke ya could man your own ship without followin' him around. Ah'm curious as t' why ya stuck around so long," she turned a sideways glance towards Remy. "Without killin' him that is."

A small chuckle escaped Piotr as he adjusted the rope he used to carry the trunk he carried on his back. His broad, handsome features lit up in genuine amusement as he spoke.

"She thinks you would do better as a Captain, Logan. Malyshka, do you wish to rouse mutiny amongst us?"

To her surprise, a smirk of genuine amusement spread across Logan's features and husky chuckle escaped him. It was a curious thing to see across Logan Howlett's face. The transformation accented the crinkling lines of age around his eyes, while the hint of his canines impressed the idea that if he were to truly smile, he would be something quite wolfish to behold. However it was short lived.

It all happened in a sudden rush of movement. First there were cries from up the road ahead, followed by the sound of a distressed animal. Then without further warning, a hulking, enraged bull erupted from the panicked crowd and began to charge towards them at a crazed pace- followed by a horde of cattle that followed in panicked pursuit. Chaos erupted in the crazed bull's wake as people tried to remove themselves from its route- and the six companions were swept into the fray without much choice to flee.

Rogue felt Logan grab her by the shoulders, only to push her towards a narrow passage between a pair of market stalls. With a cry of warning she couldn't distinguish words from, he pushed her with such a force that she was hurled towards the gap and landed just as the wave of chaos seemed to fall around them. The stalls were trashed and pushed about by the rebellion of the cattle, amassing in a wall of ruined merchandise and clusters of broken wood. Mercifully, one of the stalls nearby had been a _flour merchant _andRogue landed in a pile of flour sacks, padding her landing. Not so mercifully, the other nearby stall had been a wine merchant with barrels as large as a house towered up against the walls of a nearby inn. The barrels tumbled town on top of each other in the street, causing some to burst with the effect. Wine poured like rain from the split panel barrels and began to mesh with the excess flour on the street- causing a mess of produce Rogue had never thought to see.

Rogue managed to pull herself to her feet only to groan when she realised how much wine had managed to spatter and mar her white chemise. She uselessly wiped away the wine on her breeches as stumbled towards the wall of debris. Clouds of dust and smoke clouded her vision as she tried to make up her companions in the wreckage. She called for Logan, then Piotr, then Remy and John but there was no response. There were still many yelling, crying or raging people about that it was impossible to make out one person from the next. And with no safe way through the wreckage, Rogue decided she needed to find another way out of the debris before she could attempt to find her husband and friends.

A grim chuckle escaped her as she followed the narrow lane between the two buildings.

"And Remy told meh not to go wandering off."

_**Sorry for the late update! Next chapter. Rogue meets a new unlikely comrade of her husband's.**_

_**Please leave a REVIEW!**_

_**-Gams**_


	34. Jubilation

_**First things first. Thank you everyone for the reviews! I've been ill whilst writing the last few chapters, so it was a great cheer up to find my inbox clogged with happy reviewers.**_

_**A lot of you asked much of the same thing, so all I can say is that the truth will be revealed not this chapter but the next (with any luck). Thank you again for the reviews, I greatly appreciate it! **_

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: WARNING some of this chapter does touch upon the subject of slavery in the Caribbean. I have tried my best to be as delicate as possible on the subject so as not to offend or upset readers. I have done some research but not thoroughly, so please bare that in mind. Please know that I have written this section purely to give an indication of the time period.**_

_**-Gams **_

_**Chapter 33 – Jubilation **_

As the chaos of the main street subsided, two figures stepped away of the swirling dust and wreckage and re-traced the path away from the cattle enclosure and down the winding narrow lanes of cobblestone and dirt. One of the men- the one who had cut the ropes that held the fence in place, sheathed his dagger and adjusted the brim of his dark tricorne hat to better hide his features. The other figure cursed under their breath as they came to the end of their route. A small alcove of limestone encased the lane like the mouth of a cave, which opened to a secretive view of Port Royal's own harbour. The low tide lapped at their boots as the pair stood at the edge of the passage. The shadows and the size of the passage made them almost invisible to the outside world but they could gaze outwards with ease.

"You saw the _old wolf_ push her out of the way?"

The other nodded as he adjusted the dagger on his belt.

"I did. It was a cheap shot and a lousy one at that. You were wise to insist we take a more _tactile _approach…if we are to separate the lamb from her herd."

The other sighed and turned to look towards the harbour view. Storm clouds were beginning to form, casting a gray tint on the water's surface. The figure's usual violet gaze narrowed. Their choice of speech was careful to keep the listening walls deaf to their meaning but there was no mistaking the malice in the violet-eyed figure's voice.

"The _Devil _will be on guard now. He will not allow his lamb to come to slaughter and if he suspects she is being followed. He will not fail."

The other man gave a broad smile. His smile hinted madness and malicious intent.

"Then we shall be patient and wait until the Devil believes she is safe and that the _wolves _have given up their search."

The other figure spoke coolly to the chilled waters, her low feminine tones full of foreboding and malice.

"And he will_ feel_ her death… and be no better than a farmer who slaughters his own lamb."

.

Rogue stumbled for the hundredth time- this time over a loose stone in the unpathed road ahead. After following the narrow passage away from the wreckage of the main street, she had found herself in new and unfamiliar surroundings. What was worse, she was probably too far away from the street that she couldn't double back like she had hoped. And there was no doubt in her mind that Remy would think she had wandered off purposely again.

A sigh escaped her as she blew a stray hair out of her eyes for the _millionth _time.

"Ah don't go looking for trouble and _trouble _finds meh anyway."

The sentiment was most keenly felt when she finally found a road that wasn't paved in dirt and loose stones. To Rogue it appeared to be a general square of sorts with a stone platform set up in the centre…where a hangman's noose dangled from a wood crafted frame. While the sight of it intrigued her morbid sense of curiosity, the people who clustered around the platform seemed to barely give it a secondary thought. Like a moth to a flame, Rogue found herself drawn to the platform. However when she came within a few metres distance, she realised that the great platform was about to be used for much more ulterior sports than a mere hanging.

A dozen or so men and women were pushed towards the platform. All were chained at the ankles and bound at the wrists with rope. Several men stood guard with long rifles at their side, while a burly auctioneer verbally abused his charges to hurry along.

For so long, Rogue had been sheltered from the darker points of the _real world. _The sight of a slave auction in progress unveiled whatever veil of innocence over her eyes she still carried, and in its absence sent an icy sense of realisation down her spine. Rooted to her place in the crowd, she watched as a burly looking _auctioneer _pushed one of several young men up a set of stone-slab stairs like an executioner and their charge. The difference between the likenesses was as thin as it was transparent. Though Rogue could not help but think an executioner might be kinder by comparison. The young man was thinner than a rail, clad in rags and shoeless. A dark mess of hazardously cut dreadlocks stood but a few inches from his scalp. His cocoa skin was broken in places, a calling card of the whip that had no doubt inflicted them. His eyes remained set to the ground as he was pushed before the watching crowd below the platform. Rogue was soon to realise that the crowd were not so oblivious now that a bidding war had begun.

With her heart pounding in her ears, Rogue felt the air become thin around her as she watched the poor man- _boy_ being man handled like an animal before the bidding frenzy that ensured. Instinctively, her fingers itched towards the purse she kept at her hip – only to fall empty-handed when she realised she hadn't brought it with her. Her purse was locked away in her trunk and at this moment she had never been more angered by the fact. There was no way, not with the boy tied in ropes and chains or the crowd so dense with people, that she could have helped him otherwise.

Anger and guilt built in her stomach and gnawed at her as the auctioneer speaker declared the bidding war at an end, issuing a flurry of disappointment and, dare her ears deceive her, _excitement_ amongst the crowd. The boy was pushed towards his new master- or _mistress _as it soon turned out. A barrel of a woman dressed in a gaudy scarlet gown approached the platform, followed by a youthful beauty with cocoa skin carrying a parasol to shade her mistress from the blaring afternoon sun. Disgust lodged in Rogue's throat as she watched the woman grasp the boy's chin so that she might see his eyes and inspect his face.

There might have been a crowd of people between them, but Rogue could see the fear pooling in the boy's eyes… sensed the terror that gripped him at his mistress's scrutiny. It reminded her of the first day she met her grandfather. He had towered over her eight year-old self like a menacing giant, inciting fear she had never felt before. His grip on her wrist had left the first of many bruising red marks on her skin. And it was with this memory in mind that Rogue knew she was lucky her abuser was an ocean away and she a free woman standing. The boy on the platform however, was to meet a sorrier fate than hers and the unfairness of it was not lost on her. She watched, helpless and angry, as the boy was released from his bonds only to be latched into a collar and leash even a dog would recoil from. The Mistress led her new _pet _away with an almost gleeful disposition- but the latter was probably Rogue's angry imagination at work. Nevertheless, it didn't stop Rogue for attempting to meet the woman head on. Surely the woman would be open to bargain to trade the boy's life for something else? Surely the promise of money would gain her attention? Even as the fleeting hope of such an agreement came to mind, Rogue was on the move. She pushed and elbowed her way towards the front of the crowd- only to stumble for the 101th time when a smaller body rammed into her own and sent her sprawling to the ground.

Rogue winced as she clutched her still-healing hand to her chest. When the pain subsided a moment later, she managed to open her eyes in time to watch as her assailant pulled herself to her feet and came to stand before her. While clothed in men's clothing, there was no denying that the figure was indeed a girl. The only thing that remotely spoke of her girlishness was a bright, Indian yellow sash wrapped around her petite waist, showing the frame no boy could possess. She was at least a head shorter than Rogue, but made up for her height with the amount of impertinence that erupted from her mouth. She took on a haughty stance with her hands set to her hips.

"Hell! What the bleeding hell is wrong with you, lady? Ever heard of watchin' where you're going?"

While surprised by the girl's ability to cuss like a well-seasoned sailor, Rogue wasn't so stunned as to not return the favour with a glare of her own. Once she was upright and on her feet, Rogue was able to observe the girl more closely. Her accent seemed to give the inclination she was raised in the colonies but her Asian heritage was clear. Her pitch black hair was cut short, ending just below her ears giving her an almost fairy-like appearance that one would find enchanting if not for the irritable scowl across her young features. Rogue put the girl no older than fifteen. Rogue made a point of matching the girl's defiant stance as she retorted coolly.

"_Excuse me, _but ah think ah could say the same to _you."_

The girl gave a snort of amusement, causing the scowl across her face to diminish and a grin to curl her lips. For some reason, Rogue was distinctively reminded of Remy. Whenever he was about to succeed at something before the other person caught wind of it, he had the tell-tale habit of sporting a knowing grin; like the cat that got the last lick of cream. It disturbed her to find it in a street urchin's face. So when the girl gave a dramatic bow of her head and wave of her arms, her suspicions shot through the roof.

"Tell you what _Miss Mississippi. _Let's call it a tie and be on our own ways."

The surprise must have shown on Rogue's face, for the girl made a point of snorting her amusement as her brash words continued to roll off her tongue.

"But I'll grant you a tip before I'm off- better watch yourself going round accusing folks like that, you'd be on that platform with the others quicker than it takes the first lash t' fall."

Rogue felt an exasperated sound escape her as the girl gave her a final two-finger salute and scampered away at a quick, boastful pace. When the surprise of the encounter finally wore off, Rogue made a petty point of glaring after the girl and setting herself on a course in the opposite direction of the smart-mouthed street urchin. However, she had just begun her new route when she felt the odd sense of freenes around her throat. Absentmindedly, her hand moved to the collar of her shirt- only to grasp onto the flesh of her bared throat.

Stunned realisation hit her like a gun-shot to the chest.

Her mother's pearls were gone.

She had been had by a foul-mouthed, gleefully grinning-

"That little _thief!"_

No sooner were the words screeching out of her mouth, she had turned and run in the direction the little girl-thief had disappeared. She caught a flash of the girl's face in the crowd ahead- full of panic no doubt- before she was off at break-neck speed.

"Get back here ya little brat!"

.

Meanwhile, Remy was fretting over his wife's _second _disappearance. He ran a hand through his hair and groaned as he walked ahead of his crewmen at an agitated quick pace. They had searched the entirety of the main street for an hour and still hadn't come across his wayward wife. After Logan had assured him that he had made sure Rogue hadn't been harmed in the chaos of the passing cattle stampede, he had thought it a simple matter of finding her on the street. He should have known not to think it a simple task. It was _Rogue _after all. Nothing was _simple _when she was concerned, why should this be any different?

Remy gave an irritated sigh as he turned to look back the way they came. They had made it to the main square where the crowd had settled into its usual rhythm of chaotic order. But there was still no sign of her and he hated to admit it, but it did nothing to help his growing anxiety. He almost laughed aloud. _Him. _Anxious. The idea was ridiculous and yet...

"Would ya quit your pining, Cajun? I told ya she was fine when I got her out of the way. She'll turn up soon enough."

Remy stopped in his tracks. He decided he did not want to reward his First Mate, so refrained from turning his head to glare.

"I am not _pining."_

Logan had the nerve to roll his eyes at his Captain as he continued to walk and scale the streets with his discerning gaze. When his Captain continued to _pine _for his wife, he gave an aggravated growl and turned on him again.

"_Quit _your pining, boy. She's a smart one. She'll work out the best place to be found is an open area like this. She'll turn up and you can dance circles around her again soon enough."

While John and Piotr scoffed their amusement, Remy continued to scowl as he walked ahead. However their attention was quickly transferred when a familiar voice cried out.

"_Get back here ya little brat!"_

No sooner were the words screeched out, Rogue was rushing across the courtyard, dodging between the crowds as she chased a girl a few yards ahead. A girl with dark pixie-short hair and a peeking yellow sash around her waist.

After the initial surprise wore off, Remy managed a wary grin.

"Well dis is an unexpected turn…"

John winced sympathetically.

"Which one do you want me to take?"

Remy gave a husky chuckle but sighed warily as he replied.

"Y' et Logan go after _ma chére_. If I know de _petite fille, _she'll lose her at de next cross-section."

.

Rogue wanted to kick something. _Hard. _After following the quick-footed Girl-thief through the crowd in the main square, they had ventured out to the connecting streets. At the first junction in the road, Rogue had made a decisive choice to take the road along side the one the Girl-thief took. A small bridge was visible in the distance, connecting the two small streets further down. Rogue bet her mother's pearls that the Girl-thief would hope to lose her on the bridge. As anticipated, when Rogue reached her side of the bridge, the Girl-thief had come across from the other side. With the advantage of anticipation, Rogue had managed to remain unseen until the last possible moment. Her hand shot out and grasped the girl's wrist in a vice-grip, causing her to cry out in surprise before she turned and realise who caught her. And she laughed. _Laughed!_ Rogue had never glared at someone so intently before (Aside from her husband of course). Flushed and breathless from the sprint, she demanded the girl hand over the pearls clasped in her free hand.

"Hand over my pearls _now _or so help meh, ya'll regret it_."_

The girl tried to wrench her hand free as she replied smartly, that ever present grin spread wide across her face.

"Sorry Miss Highborn – but _finders keepers _is the way around here! And this-"

The girl held up the pearls high in her other hand- well out of Rogue's natural reach.

"Are a _definite _keeper."

It was the girl's turn to use her advantage. No sooner had she gained Rogue's attention with the pearls, she shoved Rogue away with her captured arm- elbowing Rogue in the chest. Rogue stumbled back with the impact and surprise while the Girl-thief made her second getaway. Rogue was quickly to follow, albeit with another bruise to add to her collection. They passed onto a single-lane street but somewhere between an obscuring wall of poultry-filled crates and a passing goat herder and his flock…Rogue lost her thief.

Winded but mostly fuming with anger, Rogue stood at a small cross-section with several connecting streets to pick from. However with no indication as to which one the Girl-thief had taken, Rogue was quick to realise there would be no way of catching up to her… or her mother's pearl necklace.

With a frustrated sigh, Rogue bowed over and rested her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

"_Damn thief…"_

Meanwhile, a few short yards away, hidden behind the wall of poultry-filled crates, the Girl-thief stood in watch of her victim with an unrepentant grin spread across her face. A small chuckle escaped her lips as she watched the woman walk around aimlessly in a tormented manner befitting a lost dog. She knew to enjoy her victim's misgivings was cruel. But in all honesty, she was a thief. The act of compassion was at odds with her profession and therefore had no true hold on her, even if she knew her mentor would not look favourably on her conduct. _A thief never lingers where they work their wares, _that's what her mentor said. Even so, the Girl-thief couldn't help but watch this one time. It produced no end of amusement to watch them squirm with their losses when she could. Especially when her victims were ones of _highborn society. _There was no doubt in her mind that this _Mississippi Miss _was a highborn girl. Her hair might be cut-short and her clothes poorly kept, but there was an _air _about her that reeked of high breeding and manners. The Girl-thief snorted disdainfully. What good it was to know the difference between dessertspoons and teaspoons or day-gowns from evening gowns, she would never understand.

The Girl-thief weighed the pearls in her hands with a rueful grin. They were an unusual set of pearls strung together in an intricate pattern. She lamented rather proudly that they would do nicely around her own neck before she bartered them for something more practical. The thought of bartering the pearls for a shiny new dagger made her smile a little wider. She stole a last look at the fuming Miss standing at cross-section and shook her head. She willed away the sliver of pity as she sighed to herself as she addressed the pearls in her hand.

"Bet she has a box _full_ of trinkets back home that'll ease your parting from her."

The Girl-thief scoffed and shook her head as she pushed away from her hiding spot. She watched as the highborn girl continued to bristle on the spot. It reminded her of her Tante Mattie's cat, Cleopatra. When one took away the cat's prized chiming bell on a string, Cleo would stand her ground and glare until the bell was returned. A snort of amusement escaped the girl as she made to turn away.

"Silly Miss Highborn. Should'a stayed in her ivory manor-"

"Now y' know better dan t' lurk where y' t'ief _petite_. 'Ave I taught y' not'ing des past six years, eh?"

The familiar, warm husky voice caused thrills of excitement to rush through her like a burst of fireworks. Her head spun as she following his voice, only to spot him not two feet away- Captain LeBeau. Captain. Remy. _Her Captain. Her Remy. _No sooner had she spotted him, she launched herself at him with arms wide open and a shrill squeal of delight.

He caught her swiftly in his arms. His sudden burst of laughter hummed through her cheeks as she pressed face against his chest and into the familiar feel of his embrace. He was here. _Here! _After three long, awful months of nothing but chores and assisting Doctor McCoy on the Devil's Revenge, he was home again!The onslaught of his presence captured her instantly- the smell of spices, smoke and _him. _Just him. The feeling of him in her arms again was enough to well tears in her eyes but she pushed them back quickly. The idea of acting no better than a total blubbering _girl _around her Captain was not appealing _at all_.

When he pulled her back- much to her disappointment, she looked up to catch his usual gaze. Those demonic eyes were just as bewitching as they were the first day she saw them. Her cheeks began to ache with the pain of smiling too much.

"What the devil are you doing back here, Captain?"

A good-humoured chuckle escaped him as he released his hold on her shoulders- again, to her disappointment. He stood upright with his hands rested on his narrow hips as he smiled down at her. She tried not to liken his actions to that of a doting brother, for it stung too keenly.

"I see y' haven't curbed dat sharp tongue of yours since I left."

She punched him soundly in the shoulder for the impertinent statement. Usually he would give a dramatic wince that was worth more than the blow entitled- but this time he actually winced in _pain_. A trickle of panic erupted in her stomach. _Was he hurt? _ She opened her mouth to say something when from over his shoulder she spotted Logan in the distance. Excitement filled her until she watched him approach the most unlikely person in the street. Her brow knitted in confusion and panic when he approached the highborn Miss.

"Y' 'ave been sharpening y' t'ieving skills since I left, _oui_?"

Distracted by his words, the Girl-thief grinned from ear to ear. To add to her triumph, she held up her spoils with unabashed pride.

"Got m'self a nice string of pearls this time, Captain. Aren't they pretty ones?"

It wasn't unlike her Captain to inspect the loot she had produced. She loved to see the genuine intrigue light his eyes as he inspected a certain jewel she had so keenly produced. It made her heart burn with pride to see him so pleased. Like clock-work he took hold of the pearls and gently slipped them out of her grasp as if to inspect them- only to surprise her when he gave a sympathetic sigh and held the pearls just out of her reach. From over his shoulder, she spotted Logan and a disgruntled looking Miss highborn beside him. Confusion and panic settled in her stomach as they approached. When she turned to her Captain with a beseeching look for answers, he gave a half smile and replied gently.

"_Desole petite. _I'm afraid y' picked de wrong femme's pocket."

When her confused look did not falter, he turned to the approaching pair- or more, the approaching Miss highborn- _the beautiful_, angry, Miss Highborn. Who appeared to be just as confused as she was.

"_Chére_,"

Surprise took hold of her when she realised that the Captain did not address her, but _her._ She had to force herself not to gape as the Captain came to stand beside the young woman. She noted how closely they stood, as if they knew each other…intimately? A surge of butterflies erupted in her belly as she watched the Captain take the string of pearls- _her _pearls, and gently returned them to their place around the woman's neck. When he removed his hands, he smiled down at the woman in a way that made the Girl-thief bristle like Cleopatra the Cat.

"I am afraid y' had a run-in wit' one of ma crew- Jubilee,"

The young woman followed his direction and met her gaze for the first time since their previous run-in. Her eyes narrowed with distrust as Remy continued to speak- this time to Jubilee.

"Petite, y' had de misfortune of stealing from ma wife –Rogue."

Jubilee wanted the ground to open, swallow her up and close tight. Instead, she stood there with her Captain and his _wife_. His wife whom she had unknowingly stolen from…

"Ehem."

After a silent moment in which nothing happened, Jubilee caught Remy's eye- hoping to find some semblance of pity. Instead he was hinting for her to make the first move. Jubilee rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh as she held out a hand to the Captain's glaring new wife.

"Good t' meet you, Miss-"

She caught Logan's stern expression from the corner of her gaze, so she amended her words. Albeit in an utterly uninterested tone of voice.

"_Mrs _LeBeau."

The words stuck in her throat like bile and poison- and _Mrs LeBeau _seemed to be suffering the same affliction as she replied coolly whilst taking her hand.

"Charmed. _Ah'm sure."_

Jubilee couldn't supress a huff of indignation as she removed her hand. She shifted her weight to one hip and crossed her arms in defiance as she replied, loudly.

"I sure _ain't. _This really your _wife _Rems? You said you were going to England t' get her. This here's a no good, Mississippi white tra-"

"Runt, you finish that sentence. You'll be scrubbin' the deck o' the Devil in an hour ith the soap I use t' clean that yap of yours out."

Logan had appeared beside her as if out of nowhere and began to push her towards the street. Jubilee rolled her eyes and shot him an over-shoulder glare. Her cheeks flushed pink with anger and embarrassment as she eavesdropped the Captain's conversation with his wife as they followed behind. She could feel Mrs LeBeau's eyes burning at the back of her head.

"Dat… was _not _de introduction I was hopin' y' deux would have_, chére." _

The woman gave a sarcastic snort.

"No kiddin', _Rems."_

Jubilee caught the beseeching look the Captain gave the heavens as his wife stormed off in front of him before she was prodded into hurrying her pace again.

_**Haha. I've never written Jubilee as a character before now. She's quite a breath of fresh air and I hope you'll agree! More familiar faces to come next chapter and we finally board the Devil's Revenge **_

_**Please REVIEW! **_

_**-Gams **_


	35. Acclimatising

_**Chapter 34 – Acclimatising **_

After the _interesting introduction _to yet another one of Remy's crew, the small group finally made their way out of the main streets and into the surrounding jungle. They followed an almost invisible path, leading them high into the hills and close to the cliff faces overlooking the water below. While the others trekked the steep path with relative familiarity and ease, Rogue was not so sure of her footing. Being used to blistering cold winds and ominous rain clouds on country routes, the humidity and jungle-clad path proved to be somewhat of a challenge. More often than she had liked to admit, she stumbled and fell on a loose tree root or rock. Her hands and knees were bruised and beaten and far too_ intimate_ with the jungle floor. What was more aggravating however, was her being helped up by none other than her grinning (and all together infuriating) husband. When she stumbled for the millionth time, and he reached out to steady her by the waist, Rogue had had the last straw.

"_Just- _let me do it mahself. Ah'm not a toddler!"

She remained kneeling in the path and turned her head to shoot a glare most foul over her shoulder, _daring _her husband to protest. When Remy stood silent and quiet (that ever present smirk on his lips) she heaved a quiet sigh and pushed herself to her feet- only to stumble back when the already loose ground crumbled under her first step. The back of her head hit his chest before he caught her elbows to steady her. At the angle she was positioned, all Rogue could do was look up at him. Originally, she had every intention of growling at him but the second she looked up… she lost her words. His unusual eyes were so full of laughter and tender affection. It was a particularly disarming look that left her, well, lost for words.

A husky chuckle pulsed between them from his chest to her back, causing her skin to tingle traitorously in effect. She hoped he would mistake the new shade of pink in her cheeks for exertion- or better yet, annoyance. But of course, it only made that charming grin of his spread a little wider across his face. He chuckled again as he replied in a voice only she could hear.

"_Oh chére_. Y' have no idea how adorable y' are when y' look at _moi_ like dat."

Rogue thought she had an abundance of good sense _not _to punch him. After all, the movement alone would have sent them both tumbling down the hill. Instead, she set her gaze to a hardened scowl and began to push herself out of his arms. But of course, he seemed to read her actions before she could enact them. He gently set her upright on her feet but did not release his hold on her elbows. She remained with her back to his chest as the others bypassed them. His nose brushed against the shell of her ear, causing more of those traitorous tingles to course over her skin. And it only worsened when he spoke.

"We'll be dere soon. Best try t' keep up wit' de others, _non?"_

While he _sounded _wise and oh so very logical, she could _feel _the tempting undertone in his voice. The undertone that said they didn't have to try to keep up with the others and just… keep doing whatever it was they were doing right now. With his hands cradling her arms in a gentle, safe hold and her back to his warm chest. It was tempting, to say the least. And it caused Rogue's cheeks to burn a few shades brighter and annoyance had almost nothing to do with it. To her surprise, he lingered only a few more moments before helping her to stand upright on her own feet and even waited a moment to allow her to go first. Rogue ignored the thought that it might be so he could catch her if she fell again, and decided to think of his actions as a means for her to make her own way without being coddled.

Either way. She couldn't help but wish he hadn't let her go…

Rogue shook herself as she began to climb the steep path again. She wouldn't linger on her mess of feeling until she was at least on level ground, and even then, she was sure she wouldn't know what to do with them. Determined, she looked up to see how far ahead the others had gone only to set her gaze on a familiar figure in the distance. Jubilee stood a few yards ahead, one hand braced against a large rock and the other set on her hip. Even from this distance, there was no doubting the narrow glare the girl was shooting her way. The morbid thought came to mind that if Jubilee could shoot bullets from her eyes, she would most certainly be dead at this moment. Rogue sent the girl a well-devised smile. Like clock-work, Jubilee turned on her heel and began to follow the others up the hill with a decidedly irritated pace. Rogue could just imagine the girl had turned her nose up to similar effect. The thought caused a small chuckle to escape her lips. She had no doubt this would be the least of her troubles with the mouthy Girl-thief.

"Somet'ing amusing y' _chére_?"

Rogue turned and caught his glance from the corner of her eye. She bit back a smile as she continued to climb whilst she replied.

"Nothin'. Ah just realised ah probably made another…_friend _in your _petite fille _up the hill."

A husky chuckle of amusement erupted from his lips as he followed behind. A grin spread wide across his lips as he replied in good humour.

"Oh _ma chére_. Y' will have t' be patient wit' Jubilee. Don't let today's _misstep _determine your opinion of her. Mon famille has practically raised her since she nine years-old et t' be honest… she has been denied almost not'ing and y' should probably watch y' self. At least at first. I can't say dat she won't make t'ings… _awkward_."

Rogue managed a scoff and a roll of her eyes. It was a great understatement on his part to say.

"Mais, I t'ink y' will grow t' like her."

Rogue turned and gave him a pointed look that said he was asking for the impossible. But the man _was _impossible, so it wasn't too surprising that he asked such a favour. He matched her look with that dazzling smile as he replied.

"Y' would be surprised how alike y' deux are, _chére_."

Rogue gave a loud snort of disbelief.

"Oh really? How?"

The grin across his face barely moved as he spoke.

"Well, for one t'ing. Y' both a force t' be reckoned with. _Oui?"_

Rogue stared for a moment before blowing a stubborn strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Jus' shows how ya sure know how t' pick your girls."

Rogue practically winced the moment the words were out of her mouth. As expected, Remy took advantage of the ammunition she had warranted to his ego.

"Oh, so y' finally admit t' being _ma fille_, hein?"

Rogue bit her lower lip as she stepped over a large fallen log in their path before turning to face him again. Remy had removed his coat and tied the sleaves around his waist, revealing the white shirt and vest beneath and the chiselled upper body it clothed. And what a sigh he was in the lingering afternoon sunlight. His sun-kissed skin seemed to glow with warmth even through the white cotton shirt. The urge to stare was hard to fight but Rogue managed it by setting her gaze on the hint of a scar peeking out from his open shirt collar... which lead to his chest, and other parts of him she had started to admire as of late. She had to _force _herself to look back at the scar as she spoke resolutely.

"Ah'm not _your girl_, Remy. Ah'm your _wife. _There's a considerable difference."

She turned away to continue climbing the hill when he replied in a tone that sent thrills down her spine, and made her remember what it felt like to be in his arms and other intimacies they had had but a taste of.

"Oui, y' are my wife. Et je n'aurais aucune autre femme, mais vous." (And I would have no other woman, but you)

Rogue stopped in her tracks as his words resonated in her like a flame flickering to life in her very chest. She turned slowly, and her eyes immediately locked with his. The smile across his face had loosened, gentling his expression that seemed to reveal everything his words meant. Emotions he usually hid behind that debonair smile…except with her.

Rogue felt her heart beat like a caged animal against her rib cage as he climbed the path to close the gap between them. Before she knew it, his hands were around her waist and pulling her closer so that they stood with their chests touching and their lips a few short breaths away. His warmth melted the chill that kept her body frozen in place.

"Rogue, I…"

For once, _he_ was lost for words. His eyes bore into hers, searching for her response before she could put one to verbal form. They had been here before, at this very brink of understanding what they were to each other. Rogue felt her hands tremble as they rested against his upper arms but she didn't pull back. His lips were closing in, waiting only for her to bridge the gap with her own. This was it-

"Captain! The others are already at the top! Father Wagner sent me back for you- he's waitin' on you!"

Rogue felt the rosy, warm feeling in her chest dissipate at the sound of Jubilee's interfering voice. The brief spell that had encased them passed swiftly as everything from the sound of the jungle to the feel of the humid air around them seemed to reappear. Rogue felt a new dose of pink burn her cheeks as she stepped away from Remy and turned to face the insufferable girl who had ruined the moment. It didn't surprise Rogue to see that Jubilee was fighting a satisfied smile from her perch a few short yards away. However what did surprise her was Remy's sudden transformation from _Remy _to Captain LeBeau again. There was commanding tone that bordered on irritated in his voice as he called back.

"_Merci Jubilee. _We'll be dere in une moment!"

Jubilee gave her trademark two-finger salute and began to climb the path again, albeit at a solid, _slow _pace. Rogue felt a pang of displeasure burn in her stomach as she too began to climb again- only to stop when she felt Remy shift into the space beside her. Before she could speak, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her close enough to press his lips against the side of her head. His thumb gently grazed her cheek as he spoke in a low voice so that she could only hear.

"Worry not, _belle._ I'll talk t' her."

Rogue felt her cheeks burn as he moved away, smiled and continued on the path ahead. As she followed his sure-footed steps, she wondered if she should set a tally for how often his words rendered her in such a state. Upon second thought, she decided it was not in the interest of her pride to tally how often he made her blush with infuriation. Or pleasure.

A few minutes later, they finally made it to the top of the hill- or as it turned out, the top of a cliff side overlooking the ocean. Rogue had to catch herself from gasping at the splendour of the view. After years of nothing but the English countryside to look at, the sight of the afternoon sun as it began to dip itself into the emerald green sea on the horizon was a little more than just a refreshing sight to behold.

Remy, who had made a point of watching her closely since their last _interlude, _only smiled beside her and allowed her a minute's grace to watch the sunset and catch her breath. How could he not? The look of wonder and instantaneous pleasure that had spread across her features was worth lamenting from afar. Even more so since he was close by. The sunlight caught the red tones in her hair, setting it ablaze while those emerald eyes seemed to glow brighter with their own kind of flame. Remy couldn't help compare the hint of a smile that tugged at the corner of her lips to his own heart, which was being tugged.

Remy had had every intention of letting her make the next move but he was a man and he could only hold himself in check for so long in such circumstances. He realised quickly in recent days that Rogue was much like her own horse Éowyn when it came to their new marriage. Untrusting at first, easily startled despite the magnificent show of bravery she put forth. Any step forward they took could very well be sent a few steps back if he made too much of his intentions known. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes at times. Even with her hardened glares and sharpened tongue, she was still quite vulnerable. Too raw from being abused by those who by blood kin should have cared for her. She didn't trust enough yet to test the waters between them. And really, how could he blame her? Her words from just a short while earlier had struck him like a shock of lightning. A step forward he had not anticipated from her. It was the first time she had acknowledged herself as his wife so openly without the taint of their initial circumstances. And to say it made his heart sing was an understatement.

_You make my heart sing… oh mon dieu._

The notion would have made him snort with incredulity if it weren't so true. And he was quick to realise he never wanted to lose that feeling. Still, he would have to wait until she was sure of foot to tread the waters before he made any declarations of _singing hearts_. He deemed it a wise move not to pressure her. He amended that he would try…but a man could only withstand so much torture before going man with it. Small instances of contact such as brushing back that stubborn strand of hair were the only things keeping him in check. And even they felt like stolen pleasures. The pirate in him scoffed at his gentlemanly attempt to keep himself in check. Their interlude on the path had been almost too perfect until his _other _wayward girl interrupted them. He made a mental note to speak with Jubilee as soon as Rogue was out of sight and ear shot.

Finally, when the sun was partially under water, Remy decided to break the trance the view had over his wife. He led her towards the small clearing where stood a small cottage in the overshadowing facade of a salt-washed church house. But for the carved cross on the door, Rogue would have mistaken it for a barn but that was not what made her frown at the sight of it.

"Where are we?"

Remy took her by the hand as he led her towards the small veranda on the face of the cottage. However he stopped them on the step and turned to her before they could reach for the door.

"We need to pick up somet'ing before we head t' de ship. I shall go in to speak with the priest first et call for y' when he is ready for y'."

At her bemusedly raised brow, he added with a smile.

"Father Wagner is an old _ami._ Et I can honestly tell y' dat of all de people y' have met so far, he probably the most trustworthy et _normal _of us all. Y' will like him."

Her brow remained incredulously raised despite his assurances.

"Somehow ah doubt even a priest in your circle of _friends_ could be considered so… highly _principled." _

Her words might have stung of fair assumptions but nonetheless caused Remy to grin a little wider. Affectionately, he tipped his curled finger under her chin and winked.

"_Dat,_ from y' ma _chére_, might be considered a _glowing _show of good faith in y' _mari _(husband)."

Rogue remained as dispassionately unconvinced except for a small snort of amusement. Though that didn't seem to unhinge Remy's smile.

"Won't be long _chére_ _mais, _dis is important. Now, would y' mind going to wait wit' de others?"

Rogue followed his trail of sight only to realise that between the cottage and the church house stood a small horse pen. A brown spotted mare hung about at the back of the pen meanwhile the rest of their companions stood leisurely about the fence nearby. Logan smoked a cigar with his back to them. Piotr and John sat with their backs to the fence and a deck of cards between them as the conversed. Meanwhile, Jubilee had perched herself on the highest beam on the fence line and watched them with practically palpable displeasure. Rogue couldn't help a heavy sigh of resignation, which caused Remy to chuckle.

"Try et play nice wit' Jubilee. She's not used t' being de only _fille _around. _S'il vous plaît ma chére_?" (please my dear?)

Rogue shot Jubilee a lingering glance.

"Ah can't promise anythin' but ah'll try…"

"_But if she starts somethin'. Ah'll sure as hell will finish it,"_ she added in her own thoughts.

However the knowing glint in Remy's eyes told her he was well aware that the results of his request might vary.

"_Bien _(good) ma_ chére_. I'll be back in a minute."

With a last, lingering touch of his hand in hers, he left. Once Remy disappeared behind the cottage door, Rogue set herself towards the remaining crew. Immediately she noticed that as soon as Remy was out of sight, Jubilee's interest in her had diminished considerably. Rogue took the small mercy in stride as she came to stand beside John and Piotr. John rewarded her presence with a friendly smile.

"Quite a change from the frosty English hills, aye sheila?"

Rogue smiled gently and nodded. Her gaze swept past the cottage and towards the sunset on the horizon. The view wasn't so distracting from this distance but the pink hues that meshed with the growing thunderclouds were a sight worth lamenting with awe.

"Ah thought ah remembered what a Caribbean sunset looked lahke until ah saw _this._ Nothin' lahke ah remember."

John grinned and set down his hand of cards in nonchalant defeat to Piotr's winning hand.

"Just you wait until ya see a sunset aboard the _Devil_. _That's _a sight that'll take hold."

Rogue smiled as she gently slipped to the ground beside him. New interest in Remy's beloved _Devil's Revenge _began to course through her again.

"How far away is it now?" 

Despite being especially careful about arranging his hand of cards, Piotr replied to her.

"There are two row boats below the cliffs on the other side. It waits to take us to the ship."

Rogue didn't even think to curb her enthusiasm. For all the strange and _varied _events that had befallen her as of late, the thought of _finally _seeing what was so clearly a huge part of Remy's life (and now her own) was nothing short of invigorating. However when John caught her expression and chuckled as if he read her thoughts, her cheeks betrayed her with their pink taint. She tried to hide it by turning her gaze- only to catch an unexpected sight.

From her perch on the fence, Jubilee withdrew a thin cheroot cigar and was proceeding to light it when Rogue espied her. However she didn't get the chance to take the first drag before-

"What the hell Wolverine! Give that back-"

Logan had appeared and plucked the cigar from her fingers before it even made it to her lips. Rogue forced back a scoff of amusement as the girl flew from her perch like an angry bird and began to claw at him in an attempt to retrieve her cigar. Logan needed only to give her one solid _push _to back her away but it was his glowing scowl that kept her in place, albeit not with so much as a hint of remorse in her face.

"You got _real guts _tryin' t' smoke that 'round me, kid. You _know _you ain't allowed– and _I _know you ain't allowed. So quit your yappin' an' hand over the rest of 'em."

There was a silent, elongated battle of wills between the two before Jubilee reached for her yellow sash and from between the fabric folds retrieved a small box of cheroot cigars. However when she handed them over, Logan was not quite finished with her.

"The matches, kid. Don't forget 'em."

Jubilee rolled her eyes to the heavens, sighed dramatically and fished them out as well. With these confiscations in hand, Logan eased away and returned to his place by the fence. By the time he was settled, he was lighting up one of the cigars. Jubilee made an outraged cry. When Logan took the first drag and said nothing however, she folded her arms and turned herself as far away as possible. Unfortunately for Rogue, this meant she saw her amused expression. Her dark eyes turned livid with rage.

"Somethin' funny Mississippi?"

Rogue remained as cool as possible in her reply.

"Nothin'. Don't mind meh."

Rogue knew everyone watched them with growing unease, as Jubilee's glare seemed to worsen. Her small frame stiffened into a defiant stance as she set her hands on her hips.

"I think your laughin' at me in that pretty little head of yours-"

"Jubes, come on girl. Stop stirring up trouble that don't need stirring."

John's light words of warning were met with more glaring until Logan shifted to stand beside Jubilee. Effortlessly, he grabbed her by her coat collar and lifted her off the fence. He was undeterred from smoking his cigar as he put the protesting Jubilee on her feet. His hand remained locked on Jubilee's collar even after he firmly planted her in front of Rogue.

"Kid, don't ya have somethin' t' say t' her?"

Jubilee rolled her eyes as she _finally _stopped trying to slip out of his hold. When Logan gave her a meaningful _shake _to _speed up_ her response, she crossed her arms and grumbled a reluctant reply.

"I'm _sorry _I stole your pearls. I apologise."

Logan gave her collar another tug, causing her to set her glare a little firmer on Rogue.

"_And _for calling you Mississippi white trash."

Rogue spared a glance at Logan and John before replying coolly, nee reluctantly.

"Ah accept your apology."

_Brat._ Rogue added irritably. The idea of she and Jubilee becoming anything more than tolerant of each other seemed as far fetched as Logan offering to buy the mouthy girl a case of cigars. Of course that was when Remy's plea sent a force of obligation through her and she had to force herself to refrain from calling the girl anything worse than a _brat_. A weary sigh escaped her as she pulled herself to her feet. Feeling the need for distance from the motley crew, she began to follow the edge of the fence, brushing her hand against the posts as she passed. It was a little while before she realised that someone had traced her steps. Turning, she found Logan staring back. Confusion barely had a moment to spread across her face before he held up something between them. Rogue recognised it instantly and felt her stomach hollow with panic. Her engagement ring was clasped between his fingers- and the realisation hit her that it hadn't been attached to her pearl necklace since she had got it back from-

Rogue's gaze turned towards the known culprit who was currently sulking from her perch on the fence. Rogue felt new annoyance boil in her chest as she narrowed her gaze on the little thief but her view was suddenly blocked by Logan's burly form. He surprised her by taking her hand and slipping the ring back into place as he spoke in a low raspy tone.

"Don't let on you know she took it. She thinks its still in her pocket."

Rogue felt all obligations to befriend Jubilee for Remy's sake evaporate- until Logan met her gaze with a stern frown, holding that obligation in place by a thread. Rogue matched it evenly with her own stubborn scowl as she replied in a harsh whisper.

"Is she likely t' steal it back once she knows?"

"Not if it's on your finger where it's _s'posed _t' be, kid. She won't say nothin' if you don't."

Rogue felt some of her annoyance deflate as she fiddled with the dual bands now wrapped around her marriage finger and embarrassment began to sink in. It seemed now that it was a rather foolish thing to keep the ring off her finger, even if it had been in what she had thought to be a safe place. Rogue heaved a defeated sigh and crossed her arms across her front.

"_Fine._ Ah won't say anythin'. But what exactly _is _her problem with me? Ah can overlook what happened in town as a _mishap. _Why is she so… _determined_ to be such a _brat _towards me?"

Logan finally showed a sign of discomfort but deflected it with action. He uttered a low grumble and began to dig into one of his pockets for a fresh cigar. Once it was lit and between his lips, he made every effort not to beat around the bush as he replied.

"Don't s'pose the little _reunion_ between the firecracker and the Captain earlier was any indication but t' put it bluntly- Jubes fancies the Captain."

One of Rogue's feminine brows arched high like a strung bow.

"That's _it_?"

Logan gave a brief nod as he exhaled a puff of smoke.

"Thought three months away from him might snap her outta it but it looks like it's only got worse since- since…"

"Since ah arrived," Rogue finished with a scowl.

Logan allowed a small smirk of amusement to spread across his lips before he took another drag of his cigar.

"Don't think you have anythin' t' worry bout, kid. He married you, he'll stick by you." 

Rogue gave a derisive snort, even though his words did actually ease something in her chest she didn't care to acknowledge. Nevertheless, now it seemed that Jubilee's brattish behaviour had a source… and it wasn't at all unbelievable. Remy, handsome and full of charm as he was, could- or most likely _had_ seduced any woman he ever wanted without much effort. Rogue could even concede that _she _was probably such a woman, even with his known deceptions. She could understand _why _Jubilee was so infatuated with him. She just wasn't happy to be the one to bare the brunt of resentment Jubilee so clearly felt towards her as a result of her feelings.

Rogue leant against the fence as she watched Jubilee from afar. Her sulky attitude had evaporated; her interest now on her Captain who had finally emerged from the cottage along with a dark-haired priest in black robes. Rogue bit her lower lip anxiously as Jubilee flocked to his side with the enthusiasm of a love-struck puppy. A swell of pity hit her. Recollections of her own youthful infatuation with Scott came rushing to the front of her mind and the sympathetic feelings in her chest practically burned in effect. She remembered what it was like when she was fifteen and thought herself in love with one of her best friends. What it felt like to be overlooked because he was so clearly in love with someone else...

"Does _he _know how she feels about him?"

Logan exhaled deeply as he leant against the fence in the place beside her.

"A blind man could see it, kid. He knows. But I don't think he'll try to …_confront_ the issue unless she does something…drastic."

Rogue's brow arched in mild wariness.

"Is that likely t' happen?"

Logan merely shrugged.

"Let's hope not." 

With that, it appeared the subject was finished. Logan finished his cigar and crushed it under his boot before setting off towards the cottage. Rogue made to follow but was forced to stop when Logan halted in his stride and just about knocked her back.

"Now that you know what's makin' her so hot heated, maybe you can start t' see things her way."

Rogue gave him an incredulous look.

"Are ya saying I should _overlook _her behaviour t' meh?"

Logan shook his head.

"Jus' be more understandin'. That's all I'm asking, kid."

He began to move away again and Rogue followed as a steady pace. Just before they joined the others, he stopped and spoke over his shoulder.

"Best not let her know we had this talk."

Rogue rolled her eyes.

"Ah thought that was an unspoken promise."

By the time they reached the others, it appeared the ale had been brought out for the friends reunion. While Piotr and John nursed cups of ale from the nearby fence, Jubilee was in the middle of telling what appeared to be a wild and most likely over-exaggerated tale of her own cunning accomplishments to Remy. Rogue barely caught the end of her tale about a barrel of rum she rolled down to the end of a jetty whilst being chased by a pair of French soldiers but there was no doubt the girl was as expressive with her stories as she was with her personality. Waving her arms to illustrate her story, she moved about on the spot, loud and full of energy. Remy, who sat on the porch step with his hands resting on his knees and his attention completely on her, threw his head back in a good-humoured laugh as she acted out one of the French soldiers with a terrible French accent. Rogue had to admit the sight of him in such good humour did things to her heart rate like nothing else. When he spotted her however, the feelings only amplified.

"_Chére! _Come meet a bien ami of mine!"

Before she could say anything, Remy was on his feet and pulling her towards the priest sitting on a chair on the porch. He politely stood up and greeted her with a kind smile. He was at least ten years her senior, with dark hair and hazel-brown eyes and a face that seemed destined for calmness and understanding, as a priest ought to be. Remy gave the priest an affectionate slap on the shoulder as he made the introductions.

"Rogue- dis is mon ami Father Wagner – _formerly_ Kurt Wagner, a crewman of _The_ _Emerald._ Kurt, dis is ma wife- Rogue._"_

He held out a hand to shake. Rogue managed to shake it despite the surprise that rocked her. She managed to say the first thought that came to mind in her bewildered state.

"Ya knew mah father?"

The priest brandished an almost devilish grin and suddenly the thought that he was Remy's friend instantly became more apparent. He wasn't the conventional Priest she first thought. Who would be with pirates for friends! Father Wagner patted her hand affectionately as he led her towards the set of wicker chairs on the porch. When he spoke, his words held the hint of a Germanic accent that appeared watered down by time spent in the Caribbean.

"He was a good man, _meine lieben_ (my dear). I have fond memories of him from my youth on _The_ _Emerald_. Of which I hope to share with you at a more convenient time. For now, I will say I am pleased to finally meet the daughter of my old mentor."

Rogue felt her heart burn with warm anticipation and promised to make such a meeting as soon as possible. Finally, after he had offered her a cup of ale and set her in the chair opposite his on the porch, the purpose of their meeting was finally addressed. Remy stood merely as a sentry with his back to the wall behind her and allowed for the priest to handle the negotiations. To her surprise, he reached under his seat and withdrew a beautifully carved chest that fit the span of his lap. Rogue felt a twinge of familiarity nag at the back of her mind as he gaze swept over the beautiful carving on the lid. The likeness of a mermaid with long flowing hair was carved into the lid, holding what appeared to be a small emerald that had been set in the wood. On the edge of the lid, just above the brass lock, were the initials A-M.D.

"Those are my initials..."

The observation was met an approving nod from the priest. He began to explain as he held out the chest for her to take.

"This was left in my keeping with specific instructions that it be concealed until you came to claim it yourself. All the necessary details are enclosed."

With shaky hands, Rogue took the chest and rest it on her lap. Confusion still warred against her as she looked between Remy and Father Wagner.

"Details? What exactly is this, father?"

Father Wagner rested a gentle, reassuring hand on hers. Rogue felt her heart lodge in her throat as her suspicions were set a flame by the Priest's gentle words.

"Meine Lieben, your father handed this to me _days_ before he died. He made me swear I would keep it safe until the time was right for you to have it. This is your father's _legacy_."

**A long chapter deserves a cliff-hanger.**

**Be kind and gentle, and review! Next chapter, we board the Devil's Revenge and possibly run into Joseph at some point like I promised a few chapters ago.**

**-Gams **


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